


Smile, Puddin'!

by oxforddrama



Series: Smile, Puddin'! [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham (Video Games), Batman: Arkham - All Media Types, Batman: The Killing Joke (Comics), Gotham City Sirens (Comics), Harley Quinn (Comics)
Genre: Arkham Asylum, Blackgate Penitentiary, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Gen, Multi, POV Female Character, POV First Person, POV Harley Quinn, POV Joker (DCU), POV Multiple, Rough Sex, Sex, The Iceberg Lounge, Threats of Violence, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-10 23:42:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15960074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oxforddrama/pseuds/oxforddrama
Summary: (Mad Love, JokerXHarley Fanfiction.) A mad story of an even madder love, as told by Harley Quinn.





	1. Dr. Harleen Quinzel, At Your Service!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bossladyharley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bossladyharley/gifts).



> An ongoing series, originally first published on April 25, 2014. Hope you enjoy! // ORIGINAL A/N: Here, I am. Inspired by all of my Batman emotions, and I just finished "Arkham City" not that long ago, so I have had some pitying feelings for Harley and some Mad Love emotions that must be met. With that said, I'm going to combine a lot of DCU, DCAU, DCnU and the Arkham series of games, when it comes to origin stories/relationships. So that means, I'm drawing inspiration from most of what we grew up with here. Later on, I will admit, there will probably be some trigger warnings, but I will give you all full warning, should it happen. Until then, here is chapter one to my first Mad Love fic. Maybe one day I'll convince myself to do BatCat. I'm going to try and front load as much of this Mad Love story as I can, so that I can stagger out chapters and not have too much time in between posts.

**November 20, 2:30 p.m.**

"Dr. Harleen Quinzel," I said, introducing myself with as much confidence as I could muster to the head of Arkham Asylum. I was just an intern back then. I was such a good student of psychiatry, but at that moment I was working my way up the ladder to become somebody. Arkham Asylum wasn't everyone's idea of a great first job, but I was willing to try my hand. After all, I'm a Quinzel! I can do anything. People I knew had their doubts. They think I'm too sweet, or that Arkham will be more difficult than I think, but I had studied these sorts of cases for forever. I was more than ready.

The halls of Arkham Asylum were impressive-Gothic architecture and inspiration from what seemed like the Renaissance in warding off bad spirits. Some of the bigger mess halls and laboratories even had goblins hoisted high up on the walls.

"Well, Dr. Quinzel," the guy replied. I think his name was something like Jeremiah? I don't know, but he was definitely related to ol' Arkham. "We have a few tough patients you might be interested in."

"The more deranged, the better," I said. Another doctor from across the room looked at me over her shoulder and smirked. I wasn't sure why, but I let it go. I was doing everything I could to prove that I had the strength to withstand whatever some of Gotham's worst and most disturbed could hurl my way.

"Right," Dr. Arkham replied shortly. "Well, you've been recommended by a few strong names, so I'm required to have confidence you can hold your own. But be forewarned: These are more than just deranged men and women. Some of them are our supervillains, our terrorists. They will manipulate, lie and some doctors have been driven mad themselves."

"Don't worry," I said. "I'm sure I'll be fine. I've always been interested in the more  _interesting_  cases. Why do they terrorize? Why do they kill? Some are so trapped in their own identities, you'd think it was more than just a mask." (I didn't know it then, but I apparently sounded just like every other young doctor that stepped into the asylum for the first time.)

I put a hand on my hip, waiting for Dr. Arkham to hand me my clipboard and security pass. He checked off a few more things on a list I really wanted to see, but I tried to be patient and not seem like a snoop.

"Here," he said, handing me everything I needed. "Security check is just ahead. Our guards will make sure you're secure and then allow you to enter our case-study room with your first patient."

"Thank you," I said and turned on my heels towards the door. I heard whispering coming from both doctors, but I had no time for that. It was time to start my first session.

As I made my way down the hall, I glanced at my clipboard; I saw a few different scans of files on hand. On Tuesdays I would see a man about his schizophrenia. On Thursdays, I would see a man who had an abusive father and had severe bipolar depression who was on constant suicide watch. The rest of the week was devoted to a man with no documented, legal name. "Strange," I said out loud, as I kept reading the file.

"Nothin's normal here, lady," I heard a rough voice say. I jumped a little and looked up—I had already made it to the end of the hall and the guards had been waiting on me to do their search. "Arms out," he commanded.

I had the clipboard in one outstretched hand, still trying to read as they completed their search. I saw aliases such as "Red Hood," "Jack White" and finally "Joker."  _Oh,_  I thought.  _That makes more sense._  Everyone knew Joker, no one knew where he came from or who he was, though. He was a complete mystery and a new terror to Gotham—more fun for me. All anyone truly knew was that he loved to graffiti "Ha Ha" on whatever territory he took over, and numerous playing cards of just the toss-away joker were left scattered in his dust. From what I had heard while handing in my orientation papers, he hadn't been here too long but he had caused a mess.

The two guards finished their search, looking at me like I was an alien, and let me into the next hall. The hall was full of side-by-side rooms with cameras and two-way mirrors for extra inspections. I wouldn't need that. At least, not yet.

All of Arkham Asylum was depressing to walk through. I wondered how anyone got better here. The walls were all steel, dark and cold, and what wasn't steel was stone. There was very little light, and the fluorescent lights were antagonizing—and I didn't have anything wrong with me! I couldn't imagine being a patient and having to live in such conditions.

...

**2:45 p.m.**

More than one psychiatrist had tried to help Joker. All had failed. I was determined to crack his code. I pulled out my recorder and began taping before Joker would arrive. "First session, November 20… 2:45 p.m. Dr. Harleen Quinzel analyzes the evasive Joker," I said into the recorder. I was impressed with my ability to both take notes and verbalize them. I had many professors say that despite the accent, I was pretty eloquent when I needed to be. It helped keep me ahead of my class.

I waited a few more minutes, fussing with my papers, and the Joker was brought into the room, his head hung low with a dark smirk. I felt a shiver go down my spine; it was the first time I had been this close to a supervillain. His hands were bound, and he was tossed onto the chair across from me roughly. Laughing ensued—it sounded maniacal, but I kept my cool. I couldn't let him spot a weakness before we began. According to his file, he loved to psychoanalyze people before they could him. I intended to change that. The guards nodded to me and then closed the door behind them after they exited the room. Their shadows could be seen over the slit of a window in the door. They were prepared for the worse—you could just feel the vibe coming off of them. They knew something bad could happen.

I looked at the Joker and examined his face, adjusting my glasses by the corner of their frames.

"Doctor," he said in a sly voice, and a small giggle escaped his lips.

"Joker," I said and nodded. "Dr. Quinzel, to you."

"My pleasure."

I grinned and began. "How are you doing today?"

"Fine," he said with a dramatic sigh.

"That doesn't sound fine."

"Oh, Quinny, I'm just having a rough time here," he said with a shrug. Even with his dramatic frowning, he seemed to still smile. Perhaps he was coping? Perhaps I could learn from that, somehow?

"In the asylum?" I asked. "Do you not get everything you need?"

"No," Joker said with another sigh. "Not  _everything_." His frown turned into a smirk. I felt another shiver—it was time to change the subject.

"I guess we should start, huh?" I asked.

"Sure," he said. "What's wrong with me, Doc?"

His disfigurement was intriguing. I had never seen a man whose scars were more mysterious. They almost looked like burns or blisters, but then there was a hint of a blade's mark, there, too. What happened to this man?

"Why don't we start by you telling me what you think is wrong?"

"Oh, nice one, Doc!" Joker said with a laugh. "Depends on who you ask."

"That wasn't my question." I was quick.

Joker stopped and examined me for a moment, his eyes scanning my whole body and then locking eye-contact with me. I wanted to look away, but I remembered my notes. I couldn't. "Fine."

"What do you think is wrong with you?"

"Many things," he said darkly. "Where would you like to start?"

"Your childhood," I said.

"Figures. Well, I had an interesting one, Quinny!" he retorted with a chuckle. "A father who drank, a mother who hit and jobs I just couldn't keep. Then I realized I was taking life too seriously… Here I am." Joker perked up. He adjusted himself. "What does all that say about me?"

"Tell me more about your father."

"He was an alcoholic, I said, Doc!" Joker said loudly. "Weren't you listening?" He cocked his head to the side and frowned. "No, probably not."

I frowned. "Of course, I was listening, Mr. Joker. I want to know more."

A dark grin reappeared on his face and he licked his lips. "I was a boy with a dream, and then my father and mother beat it out of me." He began cackling like a hyena.

I put my clipboard down on the table and just watched him. "What's so funny?" I asked.

I never got an answer, he just kept laughing.

...

**7:12 p.m.**

The advantage to working in Arkham is you have access to all sorts of files on your patients. I took everything I could on Joker—with good clearance, mind you—and made it back to my apartment, hoping to get some reading done. I had to find out what made him tick. I wanted to know about those marks on his face. I wanted to know so much more about him. I even managed to find some tapes of previous sessions, but I had to leave them behind—no player in my apartment that could handle those older reels. Arkham was like a museum sometimes. Maybe that's why so many never came out healed.

I pulled a quick dinner out of my fridge and threw it in the microwave. I started reading, flipping through the pages between each bite—the news turned on so I could catch anything about either the Joker or any other super-villains who were currently loose in Gotham.

"What's his motive?" I wondered out loud, taking a big bite of food.

...

**1:34 a.m.**

I ate the rest of my dinner hours ago. There was a rerun of Jack Ryder's annoying show all over my TV, and I had readjusted to lie upside down on my couch, still reading Joker's file. I couldn't believe it. He had pulled off some of the most daring heists in Gotham, all the while his identity completely masked—no records whatsoever.

I curled up on the couch, clutching the file and fell asleep. The last thing I heard was Jack Ryder say, "Hey, in a town like Gotham, sometimes crazy is all that works!"


	2. Let's Put a Smile on That Face!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ORIGINAL A/N: This chapter is in Joker's perspective. Have fun with that. By the way, if at any moment, you recognize quotes from the comics or games, I made them like little Easter eggs. If you spot 'em, you're cool. I do it at random, so there may not even be one in here... Or is there? Ooh, I feel just like the Riddler! Right! *clears throat* Back to the story. Reviews always welcomed and wanted, of course.

**November 21, 11:05 a.m.**

I heard a rapping on my cell door. I just finished laughing at something some patient said four doors down. The poor sap was completely distraught, muttering over and over again about how important Thanksgiving was and how he wouldn't be there. Who knew why, but I knew that the way he tortured himself was hysterical. Ha ha ha.

"Dr. Quinzel is here to see you," a guard said, grabbing my arms roughly. I smirked. "Oh, really? My dearest doctor is here for little ol' me? I wasn't expecting her today!"

"She requested it," he said.

"Of course she did."

We walked—well, they dragged me through the hall—passed the previously mentioned patient. I groaned when I realized who it was. Etchings on his walls of November 25 were everywhere. He saw me and grimaced. Calendar Man. He was… A different breed. Not too many of us "supervillains" of Gotham bothered him. I appreciated his predictability—I could count down the days to his chaotic outbursts, literally. Ha ha ha.

...

**11:10 a.m.**

There she sat in her usual seat, flipping through some file—my file, I'm sure—as she smiled to herself. Her blonde hair was gracefully pulled back into a professional ponytail, but it was curled and fell down her back some. She was a lovely creature, but what was even more lovely about her was that I had her all figured out.

"Doc," I said to her in a short manner. I wanted to see her twitch, again, at my recognition of her. She did. She was all too fascinated in my diagnosis, I would make her break to find a cure.

"Mistah Joker," she replied. I smirked. Not very often I was referred to so politely. Her accent and pitchy voice reminded me of some sort of lower east side resident. I bet she grew up with an interesting childhood of her own.

"Want to talk about my father some more?" I asked as I was thrown back down into my usual chair. I grunted and sat upright some. I wanted to at least get comfortable for this ride.

The doors behind us to the room clicked closed. "Actually, I want to talk to you about anarchy," she said. I raised an eyebrow. What did this twit know about anarchy?

"Well, isn't this a pleasant surprise... And what would my  _lovely_  doctor like to talk about anarchy for? Want to trade sides?" I chuckled.

"Not quite. I want to know why you love to see people suffer."

Psychoanalysis wasn't her best subject, but I imagine she did well enough in school if she were here—though, if you ask me, everyone here could use a bit more schooling. When I stressed the word "lovely" I saw a fair shade of pink hinted in her ears. I had her where I needed her.

"Who doesn't love a little anarchy?!" I said, howling like a baboon. Just the idea was enough to make me giddy like a little schoolgirl.

"Apparently everyone," she said. "You've made a lot of enemies in Gotham."

"So what else is new? Enemies run amuck in Gotham all the time! That's why I like to stir things up! Bring a little comedy to all the drab, depressing misery of Gotham. So much murder with tears. I like to think you can't have slaughter without some laughter!" I began laughing again, a good hearty laugh. I needed one to outshine my admittance that I found Calendar Man funny earlier. That bad taste still wouldn't leave my tongue.

I scanned her up and down as she looked down at her notes. Yes… A lovely girl.

She smiled. "So you just want to make people smile?" she asked. She was just so… So… Cute? Maybe. Hilarious? Absolutely. Ha ha ha.

"Have you not seen my work? Smiling is my favorite," I said, flashing her one of my biggest smiles. "Many of the people I meet may die, but they still have a smile on their face!"

"Don't you think you can make people smile without all the carnage?"

I leaned in. "Have you ever been to a carnival?" I asked, ignoring her question. She looked shocked.

"N-not since I was little," she said. The way she said "little" just made her seem even more endearingly naïve.

"Carnivals are great!" I said and laughed. "There are lions, tigers, and bears—oh my!" I laughed some more. "Oh! And don't forget about the  _clowns_ …" My voice grew dark, and my grin was as mischievous as I could manage without a mirror.  _I really need a new mirror. I want to look at myself more often,_ I thought.

She just watched me with an intrigue sparkling in those big eyes of hers.

"You like acrobats, right, Doctor?" I asked her, still looking dark. Ha ha ha.

She just stared. "Um, how did you—?"

"I know a lot of things, Doc!" I said, cackling some more. Oh, this was too much fun.

"I got into Gotham City University on a gymnastics scholarship," she said, somewhat proud, somewhat still curious as to how I knew that.

"Oh! Might you show me your moves some time?" I licked the corner of my mouth. She fidgeted.

"That wouldn't be appropriate," she said.

I sat back, disheartened. "Of course not," I said. "You're right, doctors have to keep their wits about them here." I chuckled.

She smiled.

...

**4:30 p.m.**

Word was that blonde doctor had wrangled herself a small desk within the doctors' offices. Impressed, I decided to send her a gift.  _Oh, I wish I had Ajax when I needed him_ , I thought with a sigh. He was a good henchman. But I had the next best thing! A man with an  _official_  badge! Ha ha ha.

There is a guard by the name of Frank Boles—we go way back! I used to spit at him as he passed and we—well, I—just laughed and laughed and laughed. He was a  _riot_! Word in Arkham was that he wasn't liked too much. I managed to change that—I liked him. Ha ha ha. Let's face it—I'm all anyone really needs.

"Oh, Boles!" I called out in a sing-songy voice. I do love a good song and dance. Boles turned to his guard pals and grunted as if he was disgusted. He walked over, gun poised at his shoulder like a real soldier, then those puppy-dog-eyes I love so much peered into my cell.

"I have a favor," I said darkly.

Boles smirked. "What is it, boss?" he whispered.

"Deliver this."

He took it without arousing suspicion and made it to the doctor's offices. Last I heard, one of the doctors was curious why he was there, but let it go when he said he was delivering a message from Dr. Arkham. You know, he's not as dumb as he looks… Sometimes.

The bait was set. I was ready to catch a bitch.


	3. Beauty and the Beast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ORIGINAL A/N: Now, back to our dearest Harley as the narrator. Also, yes, I took Thomas Schiff from Nolanverse's "Batman: The Dark Knight." I was more acquainted with that minor character than I would have been anyone else, so I figured that I might as well give a name to the patient I mentioned before. That's more than likely the only relation to the Nolanverse you'll see here, despite, I'm sure, some subconscious Joker take. Please leave reviews.

**November 22, 3:00 p.m.**

I was sitting at my desk for the longest time, staring at a rose. Just a single rose. There was a note on the desk that read, "I miss you, Doc. Don't forget about me." I had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but I did tell the other doctors I thought that Joker might be suicidal. Well, what else was I supposed to believe? That this "raving lunatic"—according to everyone at Arkham Asylum—was making a move on me? I wasn't so sure about that. To me, it felt like a threat.

I had an appointment with another  _character_  in the asylum today. Perhaps that's what Joker meant—that he didn't want me helping others. That still didn't sound right. I felt a weird churn in my stomach. Was this really happening to me? I caught myself grinning before I could even stop it. But I had a job to do, so I pushed the rose into my desk drawer and gathered my things. I needed my full attention on this next guy.

"Thomas Schiff," I read out loud, softly of course. I read out loud a lot. Makes it easier to break down what I'm looking at.

"Ah, Schiff," a strange voice said behind me. My eyes widened and I turned around. "Oh!" I squeaked. "Sorry, Doctor. Didn't see you there."

"It's quite alright," Dr. Crane said. "So, Schiff is your next patient?"

"Yessir."

Dr. Jonathan Crane was an odd individual. He wasn't that bad to look at, but he wasn't tall enough for my taste, either. And he had a strange voice. Sometimes it was almost effeminate. That's fine for other women, I guess, but I like that raw, rough voice from a man. Makes me feel more like a woman.

"Hm, I hope you have fun with that one," Dr. Crane continued. "I heard you were also assigned the Joker?"

"I had good recommendations before getting accepted here," I said proudly with a smile.

He smiled back. "I'm sure," he said, reassuringly. "Not many are allowed to talk to beasts like him."

"I don't think he's a beast," I said unexpectedly.

A grin appeared on his face. "Watch yourself, Dr. Quinzel," he warned. "That Joker man knows fear, and fear is a powerful tool." His grin was so dark. Kind of like the grins I've seen in Arkham before. But I let it go.  _He's probably just been working here too long_ , I thought. So many of the staff in Arkham had their own quirks—it was expected, spending so much time here day in and day out. I nodded my head politely and headed towards the guards.

One of them winked at me. I looked at his name tag: Boles. I smiled a half-hearted smile, confused. He just chuckled as they did their usual search.

"What's so funny, man?" the other guard asked.

"Nothin'," he said. "I still can't believe this broad was stuck with the Joker."

"Broad?" I repeated. I dropped my arms and put them on my hips. "I'm not a  _broad_."

"Sorry!" Boles said with his hands up defensively. "Lady!" He was mocking me, but I didn't care. The other guard laughed as I walked away.

"Yo, man, you almost got jacked by that doctor."

"Shut up!" Boles replied.

 _Dumb ass,_  I thought.

...

**3:12 p.m.**

"November 22, 3:12 p.m. Dr. Harleen Quinzel analyzes patient Tom… I mean, Thomas Schiff."

I waited for nearly 10 minutes after I made that recording—nothing. I knocked on the door to the case-study room I was in, and one of the guards opened up. "Where's my patient, Schiff?" I asked. He just shrugged.

_Useless._

"Should I just keep waiting, or should I go look?" I asked.

"Uh… This doesn't happen often," he replied.

"Okay…" I scratched my head then gathered my things. "You're gonna' help me find him!" I declared. He looked confused.

We walked over to the hall that supposedly had Thomas Schiff's cell. But I wasn't trusting of this guard too much. He didn't seem like he knew what was going on at all.

We almost made it to his cell when we heard loud, alarming laughter coming from his cell. More guards than I even knew were in the area started rushing towards the cell. The guard with me took up post with the others, and I stood back, and peered in where I could.

A rat-like looking man, with almost no hair—who looked absolutely famished—was snarling like a rabid beast. Two guards—one holding him by each end—pulled him out of Schiff's cell. The laughter coming from the cell was softer now, and soon it stopped. "Shit," one guard said. "How'd he even get out?"

"Wait…" I said approaching them. "That wasn't Schiff, was it?" I pointed to the man now being carried away.

"Who, that?!" the guard said, surprised, while the others were busy cleaning up some mess. I later learned that guard went by the name Cash. "Nah that was Stirk. Cornelius Stirk. He's… He's one of our scarier inmates, if I'm being honest."

_They call the patients inmates?_

"You, uh, may want to leave now," Cash said. "It's pretty bad."

"So that's Schiff," I said softly, as I peered into the cell. There laid a slender, pale man with a frightening smile on his face, his chest ripped open almost to his lungs—the cuts were deep. I couldn't even believe it, but I couldn't take my eyes off of it. He was torn like a ragdoll at the seam.

"Get the chick out of here, Cash!" one guard scolded.

"Watch who you're talking to!" Cash shouted back. "C'mere, ma'am," Cash said softer to me. I followed Cash back to the doctors' offices. "I guess you're one less patient now," he said with a frown.

"I guess so," I replied. "You were pretty quick to react."

"Whenever we hear Schiff laugh, we know something's up—well, I guess  _knew_."

"Is it really that easy to get out of these cells?" I asked in a low voice.

He looked shocked. "It's happened before, but it's tough. People like Schiff won't ever get out. Monsters like Stirk have their ways of getting out… They're still building a freak like him a proper cell."

"Well, thanks for getting me out of there safely," I said.

Cash shook my hand and walked away. "Oh!" he said, snapping his fingers. "Make sure if you ever see Stirk, not to look him in the eye. He's got some kind of power over people... Actually, it's best to just not even go near him, if I'm being honest."

"Thanks," I said. I wanted to know what that power was that he mentioned, but I didn't think Cash wanted to talk about it. I made my way into the office to see Dr. Crane sitting at his desk smiling.

"Dr. Crane," I said.

He looked up. "Oh, yes, Dr. Quinzel," he said. "How are you?"

"A little shocked," I said. "I just lost my patient."

"What happened?" he asked, shocked. "Did you ask them too many questions about their scary childhoods?" He smirked, amused.

"Stirk got him," I said, a little annoyed that his comment might have been a dig at my techniques.

Dr. Crane dropped his pen. "He—he's... Uh... Oh God... He's out?" he was practically choking from the shock of it all.

"Yeah, well, two guards have him. I figure they've got it under control."

"Right, I'm sure," Dr. Crane said. "Good. Good... So Stirk isn't in his cell then?"

"Not uh... No that I know uh—you're acting funny, are you okay?"

He cleared his throat. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me, doll." Dr. Crane returned to his papers, scribbling. I just walked to the back room where my desk was trying not to draw more attention to myself or his strange change in behavior.

I sat down, bemused I couldn't even properly talk to a patient before he was killed. I picked up his file and skimmed through it. He had been diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia.  _That explains the laughing_ , I thought. Then I remembered the rose.

I pulled open my desk drawer, and saw piles of playing cards buried under the rose. They definitely weren't there before. I looked at some of the cards and quickly realized they were nothing but jokers and queens of hearts. I shook my head—I had no idea how Mr. Joker managed to pull these sorts of gags while locked up in an asylum. I would have to remember to report him later. Who knew what someone worse could pull off if all it took was calling in favors. I picked up one of the queen of hearts and smirked. I examined the rose again; my thoughts brought back to the Joker. I wondered what he was doing at that moment. I decided to find out.

Dr. Crane had already vanished for the day when I came out of my office. Perhaps he decided to finally go home, after all, I figured.

...

**4:00 p.m.**

Joker was in his cell, sitting up against the wall, humming some song and smiling. His eyes were closed, and his head was hanging low. He looked comfortable.

"Someone looks happy," I said.

Joker lifted his head to me slowly and smiled bigger. "Hello," he said in a dark voice.

"My patient, uh… My appointment was cancelled for the day," I said.

"Oh, doll face, I know already what happened," he said, cackling as he usually does when he's highly amused. My stomach churned.

"I saw it. It wasn't funny."

"But it was fascinating, wasn't it?"

"A little…" I don't know why I admitted that to him, but I did.

He got up from his spot on the bed and made it over to his cell door to meet me in the eyes. "See, murder can be fun," he said with a grin.

"No, it's just an interesting consequence of actions taken by criminally insane people. Just interesting. That's it."

"Do you think I'm insane?"

"No," I said plainly. "I don't."

"At least you believe in me," Joker said with a smile. I smiled back and then stepped back from the cell, a little confused.  _Maybe I wasn't wrong about the rose. Maybe he did mean something by it, after all._


	4. Fearsome Inspiration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ORIGINAL A/N: I hope you're enjoying my remixed, head canon take on what happens in Arkham when Harleen meets Joker. I also plan on extending this story for quite a few chapters beyond her transformation into Harley Quinn. I already have the ending planned out, thankfully, so I know where this is going, and I hope you stick around. Reviews always welcome. The ones I have gotten have been encouraging. Thanks!

**November 23, 7:30 a.m.**

I woke up and grabbed my usual bag of coffee, but through sleepy eyes I managed to drop it all on the floor before I made it to my coffee maker. I said a few words that mother would have slapped me in the mouth for, then, started to sweep it all up. That's when I heard my phone go off. "Why am I getting calls this early?" I mumbled as I made my way over.

"Hello?" I said rudely.

"Oh… Er… Sorry, Dr. Quinzel… Did I wake you?" It was Dr. Arkham. Ha. I had managed to actually startle  _him_.

"Sorry, Dr. Arkham," I said quickly. "I'm just having to clean the kitchen after I had a clumsy mo—you know, it doesn't matter. I'm sorry. How may I help you?"

"We need all of the doctors to come to Arkham Asylum, immediately," he said. "We need to have an emergency meeting."

"Emergency meeting? Is everything okay?"

"Of course not," he said plainly.

"I'll be there A-S-A-P," I said.

...

**9:00 a.m.**

I made my way into Arkham Asylum and I saw Dr. Arkham, tapping his foot, staring me up and down as I rushed in.

"Sorry, the ferry was held up!" I said, wiping my forehead and stepping inside.

"You're lucky," he said. "You were almost late."

I nodded, silently, and let him lead me to a conference room. The other doctors were sitting around a table, looking disturbed. Dr. Arkham made his way to the front of the room.

"I had to bring you all here because we had to detain someone," he said sternly. He sighed deeply, and I cocked my head to the side, confused. "If you notice, someone is missing among us."

We all looked around, and then it donned on me, but I wouldn't say it.

"It appears Dr. Jonathan Crane has been doing some of his own psychological research without the approval of myself and the rest of Arkham's administrative staff." A few people looked confused. "He has been tormenting several residents of the asylum, and unfortunately he managed to get his hands on Cornelius Stirk."

I felt the doctor nearest me shiver so hard she looked like she might have a seizure. I winced a little, remembering what I saw that man do. Someone else managed to torment him?

"We found Crane donning some sort of mask and gassing Stirk. The patient snapped after Dr. Crane's experiments. When the guards broke into the room, Stirk fled and bolted for the nearest guards at the back of Arkham, cutting one to pieces before he was detained and thrown into a holding cell not even the most psychic  _elephant_  could get out of."

 _That must be the power that Cash mentioned yesterday,_  I thought.

"Where is Dr. Crane now?" I asked.

"He is being relocated to his own cell now," he said, dismayed. "We just had the warden and a few administrative doctors examine him before this meeting."

_Well, isn't that ironic. The psychologist now a patient in his own asylum…_

We all walked out of the room, some confused, some scared. I just wanted to know more. Then we saw him: Dr. Crane was strapped to a hospital bed by six strong belts all the way down his body. He was restrained by a jacket and sheet holding him together. One nurse was pushing him down the hall while two guards followed. One guy was holding Dr. Crane's mask, made of burlap and some sort of sealant, I guess to keep out whatever gas he was using on Stirk. The other guard was following, but was shaking violently. His eyes were darting everywhere.

The doctors were all frozen in time as we watched Dr. Crane get wheeled away—even me. This used to be a man of propriety and a name that reeked of infamy and money in the psychology world. And now here he is, strapped to a bed like just another lunatic. He was talking to himself and licking his lips obsessively. The tick was annoying me, actually. There was no way I was getting stuck with that diagnosis. Someone else could deal with him.

"Dr. Crane…" Dr. Arkham said solemnly.

"THAT'S SCARECROW!" Dr. Crane screeched. We all winced at the noise. "I am the Master of Fear."

...

**1:03 p.m.**

Most of the doctors were unwilling to actually tend to their patients. But not me. I knew I had to see Joker. He needed me, and I took an oath to always take care of my patients.

"1:05 p.m. Dr. Harleen Quinzel. Third session analyzing the Joker." I put the recorder on the table. The Joker showed up shortly after, and I sighed.

"Oh, you're happy to see me?" he asked.

"Always," I said, without thinking. He smirked at me and I felt myself blush. "We should get started soon," I said.

He sat down compliantly, unlike the other times he was thrown or forced into the chair by the guards. "As you wish," he said.

"The last time I spoke with you—"

"Outside of my cell, you mean?"

"In our last session," I corrected him.

"I enjoyed your little visit."

"Y—you did?" What was this? Was he making another move on me? I was beginning to like it. I probably shouldn't have, but I couldn't help it. He had a charm about him.

"Oh yes," he said and started laughing.

I smiled. I liked his laugh. "Well, anyway," I said. "I do want to pick up where we left off."

"Oh, so do I," Joker said with a dark tone.

I locked eyes with him, trying to study him. I couldn't. But he read me like a book.

"I never did finish telling you about the carnival, did I?"

"No," I said. I was used to strange way of talking by now, I didn't even think about his segue this time.

"Well, I can't disappoint my audience," he said with a smirk.

Joker adjusted himself in the chair. I wished they gave these patients something more comfortable. If they just made the asylum more home-y, I bet many of the true loonies would have felt more at ease. It can't be easy being out of your mind and having nothing to stimulate you but a closet-sized room with a hard mattress to pass for a bed. It's no wonder the supervillains were always breaking out, or at least trying.

"I used to go to the carnival all the time as a boy," Joker said.

I smiled, wondering what he must have been like. Then I noticed his scars again. Probably not a time in his life he looks on too fondly.

"That sounds like fun. Did you go with your father?"

"My ol' man was the only one that would go with me," he said. "He loved the clowns!" He began cackling.

"Is that why you're the Clown Prince of Crime?"

"I'm the Clown Prince of Crime, because I  _am_  the face of crime." There was something about his confidence that struck me. "Do you want to know a secret, Doc?" he asked.

"Yeah," I answered eagerly, leaning into him.

Joker leaned over the table, looking at me fondly. "You're my favorite doctor." He winked at me and I blushed again. I was always easily charmed, I guess. But Joker had a way about him.

...

**2:50 p.m.**

Almost two hours later, and I was still in that room with Joker. He had started telling me all about his abusive father again, saying how the guy used to get really drunk and use him as a punching bag. It was starting to make sense now. A man, as charming as him, wasn't insane, he was just misunderstood and misguided. He was desperate for a laugh because he didn't get enough as a kid. And violence was all he knew.

I looked at my watch and couldn't believe how long our session had lasted. I guess it was fine, though, seeing as how the rest of the doctors were practically too terrified to even work.

"I have another secret," Joker said with a soft smile.

"What's that?" I asked, still stunned by his sad story.

"I want to get out of here."

"How are you gonna' do that?" I asked. I probably should have asked, as a doctor, why he would want to, or alert someone, but then I guess that wasn't our way… Ever.

"With your help, love," he said. I smiled.

"What's the plan?"

I didn't want Joker in there any more than any other sane patient. Joker was sane. I had already made my diagnosis. He was perfectly sane, absolutely intelligent, but an unfortunately evil masochist. That last bit I knew for sure, above all else. But what great anarchist wasn't, in their own way?

Joker said that he knew of someone who would be a good diversion, and that he knew I could help distract the doctors, as well. Apparently he had recently become inspired.

"I'll help you any way I can, Mistah Joker."

...

**9:00 p.m.**

My office seemed less dreary with most of the staff that could now at home. Many left early after the news of Dr. Crane, but I stayed behind. I had work to do. Dr. Arkham had been hiding in his office ever since the meeting. I could hear mutterings from the cracks of his door—nothing audibly coherent, but you could tell he was speaking. Small conversation between him and Andy Howe. Word on the street was that Howe was gonna' be forced out of the mayor's office soon. I guess he was just finding work where he could, in the meantime—right now, that must have meant saving the asses of the filthy rich of Gotham... And I guess Arkham Island, for that matter.

Next to me was a large, cardboard box full of tapes—J's tapes. I wanted to be inside his mind a little more; I wanted to see how he treated the other doctors of Arkham. Unfortunately, after having gotten that kind Cash to get the box for me, I still had to lug it myself to the lab with the recording equipment to play it.

I had never been so grateful for my little, digital recorder.

The tapes, despite the aged equipment, weren't in bad shape at all. Maybe Arkham was just a hipster into reels. Maybe his office had nothing but vinyls stacked high. I imagined him smoking a cigar and drinking a chai latte—propped in his big, leather chair—listening to soul. The thought made me laugh.

The lab was empty—even the usual 24-hour treatments were on hold. You'd think the asylum was in mourning for the passing of Dr. Crane rather than his turning. Then again, I guess they were.

I set the tapes up in the player and hit the playback button, hoping for something interesting. There was some white noise and then it began. Joker's interview tapes were bizarre—as bizarre as he had been with me in the beginning.

"Taped patient interview, Dr. Whistler," a poised, thick-accented woman's voice began. "Subject: Joker. Begin." I paused the tape. I had no idea Dr. Gretchen Whistler had even spoken to Joker. She had been with Arkham Asylum for years. Sure, we weren't exactly having pillow fights after work, but I thought surely I had heard pieces about Joker and warnings from everyone before I began my interview. Why hadn't she bothered to mention him? I played the tape again to find out more.

"Ooh, ooh, what's up doc?" I knew Joker's voice immediately and perked up.

"Hello," she said firmly. "So you're the Joker?"

"That's me!" Joker said happily with a giggle. "What's your technique gonna' be, hm?"

"Very funny," Dr. Whistler replied. But she didn't really seem amused. She seemed much sterner than I was at this psychiatry thing. I like to think I had more sympathy. "I'm here to just... Talk."

"Why talk when we could be having fun?" he asked. But his voice didn't grow quite as dark as it does when he says things like that to me. Somehow I felt a little comforted knowing that.

"Each new doctor seems to come up with a new psychosis for you," Dr. Whistler continued, ignoring Mister Joker. "Some even say you have multiple personality disorder—what do you say to that?" I rolled my eyes. They really hadn't figured him out the way I had.

I heard Joker laugh. "I do my best," he replied.

"Well, let's see what we can unearth today," she said. "Here are some ink blots—"

"I thought we were just gonna' talk, Doc?" he said. "What's with the psychoanalysis already? At least wine and dine me first!" I heard a hearty laugh come from Joker's chest.

I sighed. "There's nothing to cure," I protested out loud to the tape. "This woman is an idiot..."

"It's just a fun game," Dr. Whistler said with a sly voice. She thought she was so coy.

"I love games, Doc," Joker said. "But I don't appreciate someone trying to figure me out on the first date. Leave a little mystery, hm?" I could tell Joker had already grown bored and annoyed by the woman from the tone of his voice.

"I know I can help you if you just give me some cooperation, Joker." Her confidence was annoying. Clearly this didn't work out in her favor.

Not much else was said, and the tape ran out. I heard the cut sound of the tape player and carefully pulled the reel out. The box was full of many recordings. According to Dr. Crane—er, Scarecrow—several men and women had been examining Joker since his short time already here. Apparently word was the Batman—the strangest "hero" I've ever heard of—was completely baffled by Joker when the vigilante was questioned by the police department about his capture. Even Dr. Crane had made sure to avoid taking on his assignment. Having seen this "Scarecrow" now, however, I can likely imagine why. You can't scare someone like Joker—at least, not easily.

...

**10:15 p.m.**

Joker was fascinating! I must have listened to several tapes before realizing just how in over my head I was, though. There were jokes, forced and poorly timed laughing, there were strange stories of his childhood I had yet to hear, and then there were threats. Odd ones. Mister Joker was such a strange subject—man.

"Get on my bad side, Doc, and I'll have you in the gutter soon enough," he said at one point to Whistler.

That was the last tape I found of Dr. Whistler's examinations.

The next set of tapes was by some man who sounded young—I ain't never heard of him roaming around Arkham. I supposed he must have not have lasted long. Mister J ended up lunging across the table at him, and partially strangled him before the guards took over. The rest of those, only, five tapes ended with the boy jumping at every sound with a more pitched voice than he had before. The guards could be heard rustling in the background of each tape, or making comments, warning Joker to keep his head about him.


	5. One Day to Thanksgiving

**November 24, noon**

"It is more apparent now than ever, with our newest patient, Scarecrow, that we begin serious funding for a cure," Dr. Sarah Cassidy said. Some of the doctors refused to call Scarecrow "Dr. Crane" anymore. It was like they had an aversion to the name or something.

"Dr. Cassidy, how do you propose we find a cure for  _insanity_?" another doctor asked, almost spitefully.

Dr. Cassidy looked to the doctor and then to Dr. Arkham. "We will have a cure," Dr. Arkham said. "There has to be a way. And if there is a way, we at Arkham are more than qualified enough to find it. All I have to do is talk to Sharp."

 _More than qualified, my ass,_ I thought. I saw the conditions of the asylum. There's no way that they knew what they were doing.

Heck, I didn't even know why I was there anymore. Well, I did know one reason: to help Joker. In the beginning, I set out to help Joker because it was an assignment—an obligation. But when I met him, I realized he needed a cure. There are only two things that can cure a man who ain't ill: One is to get him out of the place that could ruin him, and, two, give him somebody who will listen. I was willing to be that person for him.

I was down to just one patient after my other patient decided to off himself in the middle of the night. Apparently the guards weren't at their best when the heart rate monitor went off on his neck brace. Figures. Those collars looked torturous and uncomfortable. But Jeremiah was obsessed with making things new at Arkham—using all of his money to revamp the old systems. Everything digital! Even the cells were starting to look more unique and less like a carbon copy of Blackgate Prison. But only the patients with special needs got the special cells... Stirk, for one, had a very strange cell that almost looked like a panic room—everything blocked off. They said it was for our own good. Scarecrow was still wrapped in his jacket and pinned to his bed. No one would examine him yet. They just had a nurse feed him through a straw and then leave as quickly as he or she could. I even heard a Mr. Freeze was somewhere in a cold freezer-like cell to keep his body temperature down. No one was allowed to examine him, even on a psychological level. Apparently he was hurting himself enough over the almost-loss of his wife.

While everyone in Arkham Asylum were practically being useless, I had to file all the paperwork for my suicidal patient, despite the fact that I hadn't even had one session with him, yet. I was beginning to hate this place. It's as if all that I took an oath for—to help and protect my patients—was just a formality to get my license. This place was full of drones shuffling papers and sticking sick people with needles, meanwhile their colleagues are falling to the same illnesses that plague their patients. It was so… counterproductive.

But that was all fine. The Joker had a plan, and he was including me in on it. I would do anything to get him out of this Hell hole. Any regular prison would be better than this place. If I had to, I would send him to Blackgate. But if I had a choice, I'd just set him free.

...

**7:25 p.m.**

I walked passed several cells, and I heard a few hoots and hollers in my direction. Many of those men were absolutely disgusting. The things they would do if I let them… I pushed away the thought and kept walking. I was headed for Joker's cell. I needed to talk to him before tomorrow.

I heard someone moaning a few doors away as I reached Joker's door.

"Someone else ain't getting hurt, are they?" I whispered to Joker.

Joker laughed really hard. "No, sweets," he said. "That's just the Calendar Man." He laughed again. "He's got a  _thing_  for holidays, and he's mad he'll be locked up for Thanksgiving."

"Oh," I said, and craned my neck to see him sitting on his bed mumbling about something, a faux calendar etched into the wall above him. He looked like he was just strong enough to hurt someone but hardly strong enough to take on more than a few guards here at a time. He was bald and his hands were chained to the edge of his bed.

"Harleen Quinzel… Harleen Quinzel…" Joker said, repeating my name over and over again. I turned back to him and watched him with a smirk, walking closer to the cell door.

"Harley Quinn… Harlequin!" He said, laughing hysterically.

"Yeah, like I haven't heard that one before," I said. I was smiling, though.

"You know, you'd make a lovely clown."

Something in me clicked when he said that—like I had been waiting for those words my whole life.

"Maybe I would," I said.

What Joker probably didn't expect was in those words, he didn't just break me; he created a monster that night. He was my Frankenstein. Those words triggered something deep within me. I suddenly craved his approval. The doctor wanted the patient's approval! Can you believe it? But I wasn't like that Dr. Crane who fell to some mania. No, I was very different. I was with Joker—an intelligent and sane man who just loved a little chaos. I wasn't a victim, I was an accomplice. The idea felt a little exhilarating.

It all started to make sense, in that moment, why people were so crazy and corrupt in Gotham. It was survival of the fittest in the city, not even the cops were all that put-together. And with some caped loon like the Batman always around, you either had to one-up him, or you had to get out. Not many people got out of Gotham for long, though. In school we used to call it a black hole. We weren't far-off.

Joker wasn't like that, though. He seemed to truly enjoy being wherever he was—most of all in Gotham. But he always knew how to keep himself entertained.

Joker threw himself at his cell door, latching his hands around the bars. My hands were under his. I hadn't expected him to move. I stood still; he wasn't even paying attention to me, anyway. His eyes were glued to the hall. "Oh, I bet so many people are going to have so much fun eating together, chatting together, all congregating to one area together! Thanksgiving is a wonderful time of year! Don't you think?!" He was shouting loudly and dramatically enough for Calendar Man to hear.

I heard a louder moan coming from the man's cell.

"The food, the merriment! All those vulnerable people giving thanks! Even in Gotham..."

"Thirty days hath September, April, June, and NOVEMBER!" Calendar Man shouted. We both heard something break loudly against his wall, and I jumped.

Boles came running up to the cell. "Chill out in there!"

"YOU CHILL OUT!" Calendar Man screamed.

Boles pulled out a stun gun and jabbed it into Calendar Man's side through his cell door's bars.

The Joker looked at me and realized his hands were grasping mine on the bars. I blushed. "Mistah J, you got my hands," I said.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure I've got more than that..." He said with a chuckle and looked at me fondly. My heart melted.

Boles apparently saw us and just snickered before walking back. I didn't care.

"We've got a big day ahead of us, toots," Joker said. "Best get some rest now." I wondered what it must be like to sleep next to a man like that.


	6. A Turkey With All Its Trimmings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the point at which the chapters will shift from doctor logs to prose.

**November 25, 8:00 a.m.**

I hadn't been this excited before. It was Thanksgiving Day, and for us, it was the Big Day. I was more ready for this than I had been anything else in my life _—_ especially this early in the morning. I had been plotting most of the night; it was a wonder I got any sleep at all! Mr. J had devised the perfect plan for his escape—I admired his determination. As promised, I got into Arkham early. I got a few weird stares from a nurse or two who didn't expect to see me so soon, but I just politely smiled and skipped down the hall, humming. I couldn't wait to show my puddin' what I had devised.

He was in his bed, still sleeping. I was a little annoyed, so I rattled the bars on his door and he shook awake, looking irritated. "Wakey, wakey, Puddin'!" I said.

"Toots, there are kinder ways to wake a man."

"Sorry, Mistah J."

He didn't even flinch at the nicknames I had created for him. He must have expected as much. He was so smart.

"Is everything set?" he asked in his usually sly way that he had with me.

"I just need you!" I hadn't meant for it to sound as inviting as he took it, but I wouldn't have exactly said "no," either.

He laughed. "Someone's  _eager_."

"More than you know..." I looked around the hall and didn't see anyone. One by one, I started unbuttoning my doctor's jacket, locking seductive eyes with his. I wasn't exactly new. His eyes grew wide, then a devilish grin appeared. I dropped the coat and revealed my latest look.

The outfit was really costume-y. The colors were simple: black and red, coloring divided down the middle with some diamonds to match my spade. I was a regular harlequin. His Harley Quinn. I pulled out my hat and mask from the jacket pocket. I could have passed for a female jester. Joker laughed.

I put my hands on my waist and cocked my hip. "What's so funny?"

"This is perfect!" He laughed some more. "I love it." The way he said it was so warm.

Some guards could be heard in the distance. "I'm ready to see those moves now," he said with a wink.

When the guards were close enough and spotted this new clown in their presence, they freaked. I ran towards them, and took a deep breath. I might have had a scholarship for gymnastics, but I had put practice on the back-burner to work in this field. Now, it was time to trade in that doctorate for a trapeze. One guard positioned his gun at me, while the other stood frozen, confused. No one had heard of Harley Quinn yet—I was Joker's little secret. Before the first guard could get a shot in, the second took a backhand spring to the face. I could hear Joker laughing in the background. I quickly clotheslined the other and reached for their guns.

"Don't shoot yet, sweets!" Mr. J said.

I brought the other gun to him and let him out of his cell with a master key card I found on one of the guards. "Good," Joker said deeply, stroking the rifle now in his hands. The way he said it gave me a chill down my spine.

"Give me that key," he commanded.

I did as I was told, and he quickly walked over to Calendar Man's cell. "I don't like you, but I like your style," Joker said to the other, laughing. He didn't like his style that much, I'm sure, but he was good at buttering people up. The cell door swung open and Calendar Man just stared at him. "Ready to make November 25 a day to remember?" Joker said and smiled darkly.

Calendar Man slowly stepped out of his cell, as if expecting a trap. "Time to bring some holiday cheer," the man growled. I stepped out of the way as quickly as I could.

"Why is he so angry?" I asked.

"He's used to never getting his way, and if he does, it's not worth it, in my opinion." Joker wanted to bring Calendar Man to a new point in absurdity. "C'mere, toots!" Mr. J said, grabbing me around the waist. "He's our diversion," he whispered in my ear. He gave a chuckle, and I giggled in return.

...

**10:00 a.m.**

Right on schedule, according to Mr. J's watch, Calendar Man had stirred up a bit of trouble for himself. We could hear henchmen fighting Calendar Man, trying to bring him down to the ground. I had to admit, he was putting up a good fight. Several patients were cheering on either side. They just loved a good fight. But we were smarter than all of them combined-we took to hiding in a nearby vent to avoid security cameras and any other commotion.

Joker and I had setup bombs on the east side of Arkham Asylum, while Boles distracted the other guards. I finally got all those weird stares the guard had been giving me, at that point. Apparently, he and Mr. J were pretty chummy.

Just when we thought things were slowing down between the few guards who took on Calendar Man, Mr. J looked into my eyes and brought the bombs' trigger up to eye-level. "Together," he said. I placed my smaller hands over his rough, bigger ones and closed me eyes. We pulled the trigger on the switch, and a large boom left an indescribable ringing in my ears. I wasn't used to this much noise. I placed my hands over my ears and Joker laughed maniacally, clutching his sides.

The remaining guards, and a few doctors, ran straight for the exits that had blown, and the alarms sounded. Mr. J grabbed my hand and pulled me through the corridor, sprinting, passed the now detained Calendar Man and out the front doors. It was that easy! I was almost mad about it. Boles came running shortly after us. Joker let go of my hand, and I had to admit I wish he hadn't.

"They called for the Batman and Gordon," he said, taking deep breaths.

"Fine, fine..." Joker waved him along. "Keep 'em after Calendar Man—and not me—and we'll be fine."

Boles nodded, smirked to me, and then headed back towards the doors.

"Ready to see a bat get its wings clipped?" Mr. J asked me.

"Sure am!" I said with a big smile.

I followed Joker to the ferry's docking station, and Joker put his rifle to the head of the man who helped passengers on and off. "You won't breathe if I decide it isn't right," Mr. J said with a laugh. The guy reached for his stun gun, and without even hesitating, Mr. J blew his head off. I flinched. This was more action than I ever expected to see up close—and that included all the craziness with my no-good father, too.

We hid behind a nearby bush when we saw the police's special ferry pull up to the docking station. They did always get their panties in a wad when they found out anything in Arkham happened.

Out stepped some cops, Commissioner Gordon and Bats. Then I saw Cash running up to greet them with the news. Dr. Arkham was following behind slowly.

I stopped paying attention to the conversation. I imagined it went along the lines of, "People out, we're scared. Calendar Man is nuts." I didn't care. I was just noticing how close Mr. J was to me, and how out of sight we were.

"Puddin'..." I said. Joker just looked at me. "When we get out of this, what's next?"

He pinched my cheek. "Anarchy, my darling."

I gave a small smile.

Eventually Commissioner Gordon made it inside with everyone but Batman. He was too busy investigating the area.

"Three..." Joker started counting down. "Two... ONE!"

He shouted the last loud enough for Bats to hear, but Mr. J had already hit another button, setting off a few land mines right where Batman stood. I couldn't believe it. Boles must have helped him. Batman was definitely out for the count, and Joker was too busy laughing to pay attention to where he was going. I had to guide him back to the docking station.

We hijacked the ferry still sitting at the dock and Joker managed to steer it towards land. Once we were in the streets again, roaming, he dropped me off a few blocks from my home, laughing. "Thanks for everything, Harley!"

I frowned. "You say that like it's a goodbye, Mistah J."

"Oh... Look at that  _frown_! Don't make me get my ol' Venom on you..."

It wasn't until I got back home that I realized I never got an answer.

That's how I spent my Thanksgiving morning, and soon enough I was all alone.

...

The next day all I could do was think about Mr. J. The way he spoke, the way his hand fit into mine... The way we worked so well together to execute that escape plan. It was meant to be. But I hadn't heard so much as a word since yesterday.

When the Bats came-to, he apparently went sniffing around Calendar Man's cell. That's when they noticed my Joker was gone. Ever since then, the GCPD have put a warrant out for his arrest. As far as I know, they think he just seized a good opportunity. They have no idea that Joker was behind even Calendar Man's escape. I wasn't so sure what to do with myself, and I was moping too much in my apartment, so I decided to go out a bit. The rose that my Puddin' had given me was still preserved in a vase by my bed, and I was spending too much time staring at it, as if it were going to change.

After convincing myself to go out on the town, I ended up buying a ticket to the circus. I wanted to see the acrobats and clowns in action. I wanted to see what made Mr. J smile so much as a child. The whole time I was there in the stands, my mind kept wandering. I was fantasizing about what it must be like to be in the circus, to run away with one. Anything had to be better than this... This misery. I told myself that I had been fine before Joker. Perhaps I was just fooling myself back then, though. Maybe I was always this alone, but I needed him to realize that. I looked back at the circus ring and saw a couple of hyenas come out. That's when I made a weird and impulsive decision: I needed a hyena. A good, sturdy pet. Something to fill the void. Maybe it was the way they showed their teeth—like a sneer or a devilish grin. Or perhaps it was their laugh. Whatever the reason, I knew I had to have one.

I watched the rest of the trapeze artists and left the moment the clowns arrived. I just couldn't handle the sore reminder of a man I wasn't sure if I'd see again.

That night I returned to my home and cleaned up and became Harley Quinn again. But this time, not for Mr. J, but myself. He may have had a large hand in creating this new identity for me, but I was determined—for my own peace of mind—that whoever Harley Quinn became, I would have complete control of her. At least, I would keep telling myself that for tonight. The circus performers were all out of their tents, in the middle of the night, with small fire pits and conversation. Seemed home-y.

I straightened my hat and headed towards the clowns' tents. I had to blend in tonight. There was no need to attack anyone. But I  _was_  impressed by how much ass I kicked yesterday!

I found a few clowns closer to where I stood and approached them. They were all huddled over a fire pit built from an old tin trash can and some wood. "Where are the animals?" I asked one clown. "I have a treat for 'em!"

"We ain't s'posed to feed no animals!" the clown replied in a strong Brooklyn accent.

I sighed. "Neva' mind, then. Where are they?"

He pointed me in the right direction, confused. "Don't feed 'em!" he warned. I made my way over to quite a few cages with hyenas, and one bin full of a litter of baby hyenas. I smiled, until I felt something's hot breath hit the back of my legs. I turned around to see a mother hyena looking like she was ready to pounce me. I backed away slowly, hands up. I was terrified. This hyena could tear me apart if she wanted!

She got in the bin and started nursing the cubs right away. All except for one little guy—the runt. I frowned when I saw him. Apparently he had been ignored for a few days. He looked hungry, but he kept to himself in the corner of the bin. I kept an eye on the mother while I reached in and took the runt out of the bin. I could hear little baby growls escape his lips. He was so cute, and he needed someone to take care of him.

Without arousing too much suspicion, I managed to escape camp with the tyke wrapped in my arms to keep him safe and warm.

When I returned home, I warmed up some milk for my new pet and fed it to him gently through a funnel. It was all I had in my apartment. He seemed gracious, though. I was sitting up on my bed, back against the headboard, cradling this tiny hyena in my arms. He was so soft. He drank and drank until his heart was content. He was just the cutest. I heard him burp, and he quickly passed out in my lap. I'd need to find him some good food tomorrow morning. I didn't even know what hyenas ate. Couldn't be that hard to look up, though.

"There, there, Jester," I said. "Mamma's got you." The rose next to me shifted a little as the water in the vase settled; it looked as beautiful as ever. I smiled.

I moved the cub to the pillow next to me. After getting dressed into my pajamas, I laid down in the bed next to Jester and kissed his head. I felt a cold little nose snuggle up to the crook of my neck before I fell asleep. I was finally content.


	7. Another Boom

It had been about a week since the escape, and I hadn't heard from Joker, still. Police were everywhere, and I knew Commissioner Gordon was on my tail. Apparently the guards started describing the female clown they saw that day in the asylum, and a few nurses put it together that it was me. Since then, I had moved to another apartment on the other side of Gotham, using what I had leftover in my savings for the down payment. I hadn't stopped thinking about my Mr. J. But Jester was with me, and I had even managed to keep the rose mainly intact, though after a week, a petal had fallen from the stem and I was too upset about it to throw it away. Instead, it was left on my new nightstand to wither and remain, like the few pieces left of my heart. Perhaps I shouldn't have had such high hopes for that bastard, but he was such a charmer. I couldn't help myself.

I was refusing to let myself keep up this miserable business, though. Tonight was going to be a good night, and I was going to make Joker see just how much he could miss me. I put on a short black dress that stopped just 6 inches below my ass and my deepest shade of red lipstick. It looked like the same dark shade of blood that oozes from a bruised sore—it was actually a beautiful shade of red. My hair was done in soft curls that fell down my shoulders.

I was ready to see Joker—word on the street was that he would be at the Iceberg Lounge, and I was ready to make my entrance. He'd never seen me like this.

Like any night that Cobblepot promises a show, he delivers. But word hadn't escaped him about the Joker, and he had guards posted everywhere with rifles bigger than me. Somewhere not too far away, Mr. J was coming with a few good men—he always had a way of bringing people together.

Mr. J entered the lounge with a top hat to match his signature suit—purple with green lining—and a cane as black as coal. I think he was making fun of the Penguin that night, but who really knows? Maybe he just wanted to look dapper. He didn't have to try hard. It was the first time I saw him outside of the rags Arkham passed for patients' uniforms. Joker looked so put together compared to the last time I saw him in Arkham, but as soon as he stepped through the door, one of Penguin's guards pulled him under the steps a few feet from the door, and I saw Cobblepot threatening him, waving a fat finger in his face while Mr. J just laughed.

"Be on your best behavior tonight!" Cobblepot scolded. I was sort of surprised he didn't just turn Joker in, but he probably had his own reasons to keep on duty cops out of his party.

"Oh, pish-posh! I've got a date tonight, Penguin. A date with  _destiny_." He tipped Penguin's hat down over his eyes, elbowed the guard and skipped back to the entry way. That's when he saw me.

I smirked at him with a raised eyebrow, and he just stopped and stared, somewhat confused. "Harley?"

"Hey, Mistah J," I said coyly. I walked up to him, swaying my hips.

"Well, isn't this a surprise," he said darkly.

"How have you been?"

"Fine... I can say the same for you."

I blushed.

Joker started circling me. I could feel his eyes all over me. He stopped back in front of me and looked at my face. His eyes scanned my lips. Ours were a perfect match. I couldn't tell if he was admiring me, but I could only hope. Joker reached for his back pocket and stuck the end of the barrel of his pistol to my lips. I didn't move. I knew him; this was him. But this was me! He wouldn't hurt me.

He led me into a corridor by my wrist and threw me roughly against a door.

"Did you follow me?" he asked darkly. The pistol was now pushing into the hollow of my throat.

"Maybe," I said with a shrug and a smirk.

"Why?"

"I wanted to see you, and this seemed like a nice night out. Everyone dressed up! I wanted to get out of my apartment. Raising my new pet has been a bit of a handful, and I've been in hiding like you."

"I don't hide from anyone."

"Is that why I haven't heard from you for about a week?"

He laughed. "My dear, you're playing with fire."

"Maybe I like fire." My eyes were staring deep into his. He put his pistol back into its hiding place. Both of his hands were on either side of my head, pushing against the door behind me. He was standing over me; I felt small.

"I don't think you know what you're getting yourself into, toots."

"I want to know."

He laughed again. "I guess I created a monster." He leaned in close, then his eyes shot open. "You've distracted me!" he spat.

I winced a bit at his reaction. He raced down the corridor, and I chased after him. My heels and skirt could barely keep up. The dress was really too tight to be running in.

"Why are you in a closet?!" I asked as we stepped into the small space and he shut the door behind me.

"I've got some fun planned for that fat bastard," Joker said bluntly. He was back to being focused Joker.

"Mistah J," I said slowly. "You're just gonna' get yourself in more trouble."

"I like trouble," he said darkly and grinned at me. I felt his eyes all over me, and I shivered.

He pulled out a blueprint from his inside coat pocket and flattened it against a wall. I walked up behind him and rested my chin on his shoulder, looking it over once. Still attempting to disregard me, Joker was running his fingers from the entrance of the lounge to where Cobblepot's stage sat.

Cobblepot wasn't a bad businessman. He usually cycled through classier themes and then some more youthful attempts at a club, depending on who was running the joint in his absence. Either way, it brought in business—gave the big wigs a reason to feel important and gave the poorer folk a reason to go out and buy a nice dress once in awhile. Tonight was very strictly shirt-and-tie, and if you weren't dressed up to the nines, you were kicked out with a swift bodyguard's foot. Unfortunately, this was also at Cobblepot's discretion, so a lot of people weren't fitting the mold he had for tonight.

"Why is Cobblepot being so strict tonight?"

"He wants money."

"But he has money."

Mr. J laughed. "Men like him always want more. He's a collector, that includes money."

I just shrugged and turned around to go sit on a box in the corner. I sighed.

Joker didn't turn around. "What is it?"

"Nothing."

"Don't play me."

"I just want to know what you're doing."

Joker chuckled. "We did work well together, huh?"

I was still sitting on the wooden box when Mr. J walked over to me. He ran his hands up and down my thighs softly and whispered in my ear his plan for a big boom. I missed the close contact, however, I composed myself when he pulled away. "I like it," I said darkly.

"Good!" he shouted and clapped his hands together, turning back to the blueprint as if I didn't exist once again.

...

Jay, Raven and Lark—the Penguin's three henchgirls—and Penguin all stepped out onto the stage, and the large crowd clapped for them. His henchgirls were dressed in saucy butler outfits—black leotards with white collars, white heels and black bows in their updos. Each one linking arms around Cobblepot. He looked so proud of his girls and the turn out for the night. Joker and I were towards the back and he whistled and hollered in their direction along with a few other crude men. I elbowed him in the back and pouted, he just snarled and kept leering at the girls. Figures he would do this to me in public. I had to hook him if I wanted all of his attention, but he was proving much more difficult than the average man—that's why I loved him.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Cobblepot said into a mic, as the clapping died down. "Thank you for coming to the Iceberg Lounge tonight! We hope you enjoy the show!"

Just then the curtains opened and a big, brass band stood behind the four of them ready to play. The crowd clapped again.

"Drinks on me!" Cobblepot shouted, waving his staff in the air.

Servers dispersed throughout the crowd carrying trays with martinis and scotch. Women and men gladly grabbed a drink and began mingling as the brass band started playing some song. They sounded great, and I saw Joker tapping his foot. I giggled.

"Wanna dance?" I asked.

"Later, sweets!" he said. "I've got a meeting to attend!"

"What meeting?"

He grabbed my wrist and pulled me through the crowd. Cobblepot surveyed the crowd some more with pride. He loved to entertain. The classy criminal spotted us moving through the crowd and looked frustrated. He pointed out to the crowd, talking to his girls, then headed in the same direction as us. We were stopped at a door guarded by two of Penguin's men. Mr. J tipped his hat to them and they let him through, watching me closely as I was pulled behind.

The room we entered was dimly lit with spaces to sit but not much else. A group of more of Penguin's men were standing around a throne-like chair, while some men, I assumed for Joker, were standing around a chair across from that. Joker sat down and pulled me onto his lap.

"What are we doin' here, Mistah J?"

"Bargaining," he said with a grin, placing a hand on my back and another on my knees. A few of his men chuckled. Joker kept eyeing one man on Penguin's side, and the man seemed to be nervous about something. The fear in his eye was putting me on edge.  _Does Joker have something on him?_ I wondered.

Penguin strode in with whatever swag such a fat man could muster with a cane, and sat down in his abnormally large chair, glaring at the two of us. "Well, Joker, I'm sure you're hoping for a fair trade tonight."

"That would be the plan," Joker replied.

"But you don't ever follow plans."

"Look, Ozzy, I just need a few guns for my few men and then I'll be on my way," he said with a laugh. "It's really no big deal."

"I'll be expecting payment," Penguin replied before breathing on his monocle and rubbing it between the fabric of his shirt.

"Of course!" Joker said. "How much do you want?"

"Two-thousand for the guns, and 500 for the ammo." Cobblepot put the monocle back in the groove of his eye and stared at Joker intently.

"C'mon, Penguin! I thought you said we'd get a bargain? I didn't come here to get the same price as a store, you know that."

"For all the trouble you cause me, you're lucky I don't buy off every store and then sell to you for three times as much."

"I was only ever having a little fun..." Joker said, rubbing my back. I placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to keep my balance as I pushed my skirt down.

"Three-thousand..." Penguin said.

"Alright! Alright!" Joker shouted, annoyed. He looked at me and then to Penguin. "Two-thousand and the girl!" he said, pushing me across to Penguin. Penguin's henchmen grabbed my arms to steady me, eyeing my behind.

"Hey!" I shouted. "No fair!"

Joker didn't care. I felt a pain in my chest. How could he do this to me? How could he sell me off like a cheap piece of meat? I felt a tear, but I fought it back and glared in his direction.

"I won't take your whores as bartering chips, Joker!" Penguin spat back.

_He's probably gay._

Cobblepot lifted his staff and I was pushed back towards Joker who stood up to catch me. He gave me a smile as I just hung in his arms like a confused rag doll.

I turned to look back at Cobblepot over my shoulders. He looked mad.

"I told you to be on your best behavior, git!"

"Ozzy, cool it," Joker said calmly. He actually seemed serious now. "Fine. I'll give you your 3,000, but don't expect a tip." Joker's henchmen chuckled.

Cobblepot snapped his fingers and one of his men walked over to Joker and held out his hand. Joker let go of me—as I steadied myself to stand on my own— and pulled out a thick wad of cash. My eyes widened. He shoved it in the man's hand and Cobblepot was almost immediately thumbing through it.

"Nice doin' business wit' ya'," Penguin said, finally amused.

Joker gave some signal to one of his men before he turned around. I didn't catch what it was supposed to mean, but I figured it had something to do with his plan. Puddin' pulled me by my wrist again, looking annoyed but at least somewhat pleased he got his guns. His men took the guns and ammo and walked out of the back door of the Iceberg Lounge unseen. Joker pulled me into his body by the waist, once we were back near the dance floor. Most of the men and women were completely wasted by the time the meeting was over. Joker started twirling me around and I began to giggle.

"How about that dance, sweetheart?" Joker asked me.

I couldn't refuse. He took my hand in his and placed his other hand on the small of my back, leading me across the floor in a waltz.

"What are we doing, Puddin'?" I asked after a couple of songs.

"Dancing," he said plainly.

"But what about your plan—the blueprints?"

Joker looked around. "My plans haven't changed. Just be patient."

The song shifted into something Joker noted as being "Pick Up the Pieces." I hadn't heard it before, but then again this wasn't my cup of tea, either. He looked to me and smirked.

"Ready?"

"For?"

"The boom," he whispered—his face just inches from mine.

"Do it," I dared him.

He grinned darkly and opened his jacket to reveal a string with a ring attached at the end. He pulled on it and center stage exploded in the middle of the song. The brass instruments screeching in loud unison bringing many drunks to their knees. People screamed in terror, running for the entrance, and Cobblepot raced out of a side room as fast as his short legs could carry him to find out what had happened, hobbling all of his morbid weight on his poor cane.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" Cobblepot yelled out.

His girls were safe, but a few of his men were dead and, of course, his night. Joker was laughing so hard he could barely stand up. I was clutching onto his body for dear life, afraid of what might happen next now that he properly ruined any chance of another deal with Penguin. That man had power and money.

Cobblepot spotted us and screeched, "GET THAT IMBECILE!"

Two men came after us, and we sprinted for a back exit down a corridor. We beat them out the door, but Joker knew we needed a real escape plan. That's when two of his men came dragging that man of Penguin's that Joker had been staring at earlier by the hands. He had scrapes on his knees now from being dragged for so long.

"That way!" Joker commanded. "We've got to get out of here before I bother with this fool..."

...

"Look, Jokah! I didn't mean nothing by it! I swear!" The man was pleading for his life now.

We were in an abandoned warehouse now near the Bowery. Joker's henchmen had bound the man's hands in front of him and forced him to his knees.

"You turned your back on me," Joker said. "I'm hurt!" He was up to his usual dramatics again.

"You's was gone! And Penguin was paying more! I got alimony!"

Joker took the hilt of his gun and made contact with the back of the man's head. "You should have been faithful, Henry," Joker said.

Henry moaned and held his head. "I..." He was on the floor bleeding, now. Joker giggled. Once Henry was able to finally say something, he just looked mad.

"You's ain't even big time no more, Jokah!" I was shocked he would even dare to say anything at all. I stood back with Joker's other men, our mouths gaping at Henry.

Joker bent over and leaned into him. "Oh really?" he said with a sarcastic grin.

"You's think all's ya' gotta' do is just run up in here and throw ya' hand around and every schmuck from here to Boston will throw on their fuckin' Yankee Doodle caps and say 'Aye, aye!' But that ain't how it is no more. This is Penguin's game now. You ain't even good enough to not get caught."

The "t" fell off his lips at the same time a shot echoed off the walls of the warehouse. The man dropped to the ground, blood oozing out of his forehead. Joker did it without even any hesitation at all—one of his closest allies.

"I never paid you to talk, neither," Joker said and a small chuckle escaped his mouth, as if by accident.

I looked at Joker, expectantly, but he just yawned. I frowned—I knew what that meant. Mr. J was either bored or actually tired, which meant no room for me.

"Go home, Harley," Puddin' said, kissing my cheek. "I promise I won't leave you waiting so long next time."

"You better cross your heart and hope to die," I said with a wink.

"Honey, I'm practically invincible."

...

When I came home, Jester was in his kennel looking pitiful. He whined when he saw me, and the first thing I did was prepare some wet food for the little pup and pet him as he ate—I had finally managed to teach the runt to stop being so food aggressive. I wanted a sweetie pie, not a beast.

"Oh Jester!" I exclaimed, picking the hyena up once he was done eating. He looked at me with his tongue hanging out of his mouth. "You should have been there! My Puddin' danced with me! It was so perfect!"

I hugged Jester tightly and he let out a moan that almost sounded like a cat's purr. I kissed his head over and over until he started to wriggle his way out of my hands. I let him go and he plopped down and started scratching at his ear before looking at me curiously.

"Fine. Find me when you want to cuddle," I said with a grin. I didn't need his affection tonight, and I'm sure he was tired of me, anyway. After a week of being an overprotective mother, free roam of the apartment to tear up something else I owned was probably just what he needed. He deserved it, anyway. He was such a cute pup.

I had managed to get most of my makeup off and change into my pajamas, but I left the lipstick on. I wanted just one thing to remind me of my Puddin'. He left me once again, still with no idea of what he tastes like, but at least this way I was just a bit closer to knowing. I looked to the rose sitting on my vase. Another petal had fallen, but I didn't care. I had finally managed to get his attention for good—or so I thought.


	8. Finding Beauty in Love & Violence

Jester was perched in my lap, making low growling noises as he slept. It was precious. I stroked him gently, with my head against the wall, tears streaming down my face. We were sitting on the floor, like we always do in the evenings after we eat. I looked like some sappy romantic comedy actress. It was disgusting! It was absolutely pathetic! What do I look like—some cheap performer named Black Canary? But if nothing else, as I pet my pup, I knew I had Jester. He was the only one who got me now. My mother had somehow gotten hold of my latest number, and the last people I wanted to talk to were family while I was already as confused as I was. She was worried about me, hadn't heard anything for a while. I told her to stop calling. I told her that I loved her, but it was for the best for our family. With all the issues my father has already given her in the past, the last thing she needed was to know her daughter was in hiding from the police for busting out such a famous supervillain. For a doctor, I wasn't all too bright sometimes. Sometimes I wondered how I even got in this mess. Who the hell did Joker think he was, stringing me along the way he does?

Joker promised me that he wouldn't leave me waiting so long, and he delivered, but he gave me more than I was prepared for—I still wasn't sure if I was okay with it or not. I felt myself sniffle, and my chest shook. Jester shook his head and lazily looked at me before falling back asleep kicking his feet out. It's amazing how fast they grow up. He already filled most of the length of my legs stretched out like this. My babe was getting to be a big boy, and I wondered if this little apartment would be enough for us—he certainly caused a stir earlier in the week.

...

Puddin' stopped by. I wasn't sure how he even knew where I was, but I'm sure he had been secretly spying on me. I don't think he fully trusted me yet, despite all my efforts. It was just turning 4 a.m. when I heard Jester growling viciously at the door and a few loud knocks. I had never heard Jester sound so terrifying before, but he was a hyena—I guess I should have expected it.

I was hardly prepared to open the door. I was barely dressed—just a nightie that I managed to con out of an ex before I dumped him and my hair in a bun. I hadn't thought much of it, though, when I opened the door to see who it was. My eyes were still crossed when I saw a figure step into the apartment and I heard in a dark, low voice someone say, "Hello, sweetheart." My eyes shot wide-open. Jester had managed to jump over the baby gate I put around his bed to stop him from chewing my couch to shit while I was sleeping. He was lunging for my Puddin', when I managed to stick my hand out and stop him. This nasty, foamy drool was dangling out of the hyena's mouth, and I was a bit nervous for Joker to even be here. "Jester, it's alright!" I scolded. The hyena snapped out of it, and I ushered him back to his bed. When I turned back around, Joker was grinning at me. "Jester, huh?"

"Don't get cocky," I said with a smirk.

"Aw, why not, Harls?!"

I slapped him on his chest. "How did you know I live here?" I put my hands on my hips.

"Still underestimating me? After  _all_  this time?" he said it in his usually dramatic way.

"I never underestimated you." I could hear Jester growling under his breath. I turned to see him eyeing Joker suspiciously. Hair was standing on edge and his breathing sounded hitched.

I had barely turned around when I felt two cold lips on mine. It shocked me—I tried to pull away from the frostbite, but Joker pulled me in closer before I gave in.

He tasted like cheap wine and scum. I couldn't completely identify it at first. I wanted to be disgusted, but lust took over. I felt the grit of a harbored man on his gums and then the breath of the cheapest red wine you could find on this side of Gotham. And trust me, I've had some cheap wine in my day—it's all I can afford—but this was something foul and bitter. Joker's arms were wrapped securely around my waist, and I did my best to try and hold him to me. As strange as this was, now that we were finally together, I needed to know he wouldn't pull away again and jump down the fire escape or something. Jester growled again and I pulled away. "Puddin'!" I tried to get a word in, but Joker's lips were on my neck. "W-w-wait! Mistah J!" I finally pushed him off of me. "What are you doin'?!"

"Don't you want it, Harley?" he asked.

The way he said it sent the worst shiver down my spine, but he was right. Joker grabbed me around my waist again and kissed me hard. What else was there to do but give into him like I had always wanted to? His hands roamed my thighs until he had lifted my nightie off of my body. I felt even colder now. I pulled my hands off of him to cover my chest.

"Don't do that," he said deeply and pulled my hands back to his hips. Step by step he led me into the bedroom, and I remember hearing my heart pound through my chest. I felt small, again. He seemed to have a way of doing that.

The back of my calves hit my bed and he kissed me softly before pushing me onto the bed and jumping on top of me. In the heat of the moment, my hands found his belt and buttons and managed to work most of his clothes off of him. His skin was just as icy pale as the rest of him. I guess I should have known it wasn't just clown make up. I could feel him smile as he kissed my neck. Before I knew it, my hands were above my head and he had me.

I wasn't ready for him. I wanted his romance, I wanted his charisma. As usual, I wanted more than he would give me, but he took what he could instead.

He was gone soon after that. I was asleep when he took off. I guess I would have been surprised if he had bothered to stick around. But I wasn't that for him. Sometimes I wondered if I would ever be more. I spent the rest of the week replaying it all in my head, and I hadn't heard anything from him.

...

Since he came and went—quite literally—I spent my time trying to figure out how to make him stay, and if I was even worth it. I took up sewing to calm my mind, but I couldn't manage to hack it, at least not for what I wanted. My costume from Arkham was still hanging in my closet, and I hadn't had a reason to wear it. I hadn't even wanted to, if I was being honest. I thought he had me before, but now I was trapped. He had me, and I didn't know what else to do with myself. He was far from my first! No mistaking it, I had been around! But he was my last.

Another tear fell down my face, and Jester was licking my cheeks trying to cheer me up. I smiled through wet eyes at my baby. "Thanks, Jester," I said. It was then I realized how warm my apartment was, and I was getting uncomfortable. I cooed Jester as I began to sit up and he whined. We moved into my bedroom, and the pup hopped up onto my bed. I figured it was time I started trusting the runt.

I stripped down, still burning hot, and turned down the thermostat before lying in bed. I sighed. I knew how fucked I was. In that moment where I felt a bead of sweat hit my foreheard, I realized I was actually wishing for a chill that was gone now, somewhere floating through Gotham with a bottle of cheap, red wine dangling in his slender hand.


	9. Just a Spoonful of Chaos Helps the Gunpowder Go Down

"Well, well, well!" Joker looked around before returning to shouting into his shiny, new megaphone. "Welcome to what is the beginning of... a new age in Gotham!" A few cheers could be heard in the crowd—bellows and roars of appeasement and desperation.

Joker and I were standing on a platform of an abandoned warehouse about ten feet higher than the rest of the crowd below us. The sun was setting, so there was little time to spare before the Bat showed his ugly face. Joker had lined up five white men and five black men, each facing each other, in front of the crowd. All ten of them were abducted doctors and nurses from Gotham General Hospital, and each member had their mouths bound—an idea Mister J got from a few nights ago with me. He didn't even credit me, either! The white men had guns taped to their hands with electrical tape. They had been bound so long, I wasn't even sure that there was any real blood-flow in their hands anymore.

The men, looking up at Joker all excited from below the platform, had just broken out of Blackgate Prison and were waiting on the edge of their seats for my Puddin' to say something smart. Mister J managed to strike a deal with Bane, and the rest was assuredly a show to be seen with that titan in-hand. There were stories all over Gotham about how Bane had knocked a hole so big in the prison it would take days to fix the damage and secure the place again. Not that I saw any of it—Joker wouldn't let me come. I still don't even know what he gave Bane to make him do his dirty work, for that matter.

Joker looked over the crowd one good time and sneered. "You're all horrible, but you're the best of the lot that ran for the hills when the Blackgate angels opened up a path for you..." There were a few ballsy jeers. "Nevertheless!" Joker shouted over them, waving a hand in his charismatic way. "You're here. And so am I! So let's get down to business."

Puddin' hopped off of the platform and began walking through the crowd. They all made room for their maniacal messiah as he looked around giggling.

"I have a dream..." he said softly, tossing the megaphone to a nearby thug who grunted when it hit his gut. Joker threw an arm around one thug who had painted his face for the Joker, but could be seen even from where I was standing as a black man. "I have a dream, that one day this nation will RISE UP!" Joker raised a balled fist in the air, victoriously.

"Wow, that's kinda racist, though..." a thug close to me said.

"Yes..." Joker continued, ignoring him. "And when that nation rises, it will live out the true meaning of its creed... One I hold dear to my heart." He quickly looked towards me and winked. "That creed is this: A well-regulated militia, being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms, shall not be infringed."

The crowd cheered loudly, and I couldn't help but giggle. Joker waved a hand in the air and one of his wing-men threw a pistol to him. He caught it, and stared at it, pulling the man even closer to him as he giggled. Joker looked to the thug. The poor guy seemed nervous.

Joker let go of him out of the kindness of his heart and opened his coat jacket to pull on a string. The guns in the white hostages' hands went off in unison, shooting the black hostages all dead. People jumped back and shouted in shock. Joker laughed his way back to the platform, skipping and twirling his pistol like a rodeo clown.

"Aye, man, that was fucked up!" one thug shouted to Joker. A few more followed suit.

"Ah, tut-tut!" Joker said, tapping the end of the barrel on his fingertips. They all stood quiet. "Let me finish my dream," he said, almost giggling.

"I have a dream," he walked down the line of the—now sobbing, white hostages—as he placed each of the bound barrels to their heads. They did it so willingly it almost made me laugh. "That one day this nation will rise up... And then... I'LL BURN IT ALL TO THE GROUND!"

He tugged on that string again, and those hostages were wasted, too. The escapees who assumed the killings were an act of racism now seemed calmer. It was just Joker being Joker; he only wasted lives if it sent the right message. This message: People were replaceable, and more importantly, disposable.

Joker reached out his hand. "Can I please have my megaphone?" he asked dramatically. The same thug who caught it ran over and handed it to him. "Thanks, pal!"

I thought I saw that thug blush a little.

Joker pulled himself back up onto the platform with me, grabbing me by the waist once he was standing steady. He put the megaphone to his mouth slowly, and grinned. "Now... WHO'S READY FOR SOME CHAOS?!" The entire crowd roared, and the sun finally set. Joker never looked more pleased than he did now. At his command, I pulled a nearby lever, and the entire warehouse lit up in lights reading out "Joker's Funhouse" in large letters with a few clown faces around the place. This was his new headquarters, and as always he was ready for the party to start.

"This is the sanctuary for the sanity of the most insane specimen serving under a severely superfluous and satirical stand-up guy. Welcome to your new home!"

...

I wrapped my arms around Mister J as he walked beside me into the warehouse from our stage. Two henchmen pulled open the doors of the warehouse for the crowd below, and we looked at them safely from above in our office. The large window was made of bullet-proof glass and recycled steel to hold it together. Apparently Joker had been working on securing this place for awhile, he just didn't want to tell me yet. Puddin' was definitely one for surprises—said some guy named Broker had been fighting off some squatters for the place a few weeks ago. I never am sure where he gets all that money from for these deals, but I guess Joker knew which hands to shake and arms to twist.

"Alright, Mistah J," I said, snuggling into his chest some more as we continued to watch the crowd explore the warehouse some. "You got me. This was worth waiting for."

"I'm glad you think so, Harley baby," he said. "The boys seem to like it, huh?"

"They sure do," I said, looking back to them. A few were jumping around enthusiastically, as if they were waiting for a big fight. Some were even already fighting each other.

I smiled and turned to find Jester nudging my leg with the top of his head. I sat down beside him and scratched on his belly listening to the low growls of enjoyment coming from his snout. "This is your new home, Jester," I whispered to him, kissing his cold nose. He sneezed and continued to smile and growl. I had everything I needed here.

"Mistah J," I called to him from where I was sitting.

"Yes..." he said, already sounding somewhat preoccupied with work, eyes still scanning the men he had obtained.

"Is it time for me to give out the orders?"

Joker looked down on me and smirked. "Make me proud, Harls."

I smiled wide, and picked up Jester in my arms. He was really getting too heavy for such a thing, but I loved that little muffin like he was still that scrawny runt I met at the circus weeks ago. I found his leash nearby and threw it around his neck as we made our way to the office door.

In the open warehouse were several men examining all of the colorful lights, model trains and clown dolls spread out around the place. Joker really did know how to decorate. It was like the inside of a ratty old toy box. I put Jester down, but kept him on his leash. He snarled and barked at the crowd of henchmen, who—once realizing I was there—had stopped to hear what I had to say. A few skiddish men kept eyeing Jester... As if I'd waste my time sicking my baby on a crowd like this one.  _What a bunch of scum_. I was standing on a mended ramp that led to a few other rooms around the top floor of the warehouse. I was high enough from the men that they couldn't hurt me, but that didn't stop their eyes.

I had to admit, I had outdone myself. Joker gave me a few bucks, after he picked me up with Jester and our couple of suitcases, and let me go out shopping for a more suiting outfit. Just for the occasion, I chose the best corset for my two best girls and some tight, leather pants to match. I even got the whole thing customized—black and red with three diamonds on both hips. Both the corset and the pants were divided down the center—one side red, the other side black, opposite of each other. Joker even found some matching elbow-length gloves the other day as a homecoming present. I looked hot, but only one could have me.

"ALRIGHT PUNKS, LISTEN UP! I'm Joker's girl, and he wants me to tell you all what we've got planned." I looked around. "Yeah, it looks nice here, but we want this to be a show—this is Mistah J, after all. I need this place ready for the Bat and any other intruders; I heard word that Penguin might even be coming to pay a visit for what Joker did a couple of weeks back at his big bash." A few henchmen snickered.

"I need some good ol' graffiti with my Puddin's face and a characteristic 'ha-ha' here and there to liven the place up. If you think you losers are up for the challenge, be my guest!"

"Whatever, toots!" one thug replied throwing his arms up at me.

That's when we heard some interference over the intercom system, and Joker's voice say, "Harley is the queen of this circus tent of tragedy I'm looking down on right now, and you'll listen to her until I say otherwise." The intercom quickly cut out again.

I smirked and cocked my hip out, placing a hand on it. "See!" I shouted. The same thug shrugged and smirked. "If you haven't heard, the name is Harley Quinn. I ain't new, but you are. You do as I and Mistah J say, and that's that. We want this place ready. There's an old junkyard where the crackheads used to hangout about a quarter of a mile from here. Go gather some weapons and scrap metal. We're building an army!"

I skipped back into the office, pulling fiercely on the leash of a still-determined hyena.

"Hey, I used to be one of dem crackheads, bitch," I heard one thug say as they all dispersed. I giggled under my breath.

"I think I got them all ready for you, Puddin'!" I said, stepping back into the office and hanging up Jester's leash.

"Good girl!" he said smiling. "Let's see if they're worth anything."

...

I walked back to our bedroom—ratted sheets from an old comforter set I had that Jester tore to shreds resting on the bed—while Joker gave a few orders to his most trusted henchmen. My blonde pigtails still looked pretty plain, and my face, with only the red lipstick, didn't make for much of a splash when people saw me. Trying to redefine yourself can be hard, but I was doing it for Joker. I had to go big or he'd kick me out. Thankfully, this new outfit was giving me just the inspiration I needed. I sat down at our recycled vanity: It was a mirror in the shape of a clown head with big, bulb lights surrounding it. The drawers were full of makeup, and white powder. He said he set it up just for me, but I know that on big nights out he refines his look with a bit of the makeup, too.

Every day, Joker hid his already snow-white skin with a bit of powder. I mean, it wasn't that surprising, he was the Clown Prince of Crime, but I never thought he needed much of anything. I took his powder and smothered my pores until my face was completely white. I reapplied my blood-red lipstick, and darkened my eye makeup some more. "Perfect!" I said to my reflection.

"I'll say," Joker's deep voice growled behind me. I shook.

"Mistah J, you scared me!" I said.

"You look beautiful, Harley," he said.

"We're a match made in Heaven!"

"Or Hell..." he cackled to himself. I pulled him closer to me and kissed him hard—our red lips smearing some more. That taste in his mouth that I wasn't sure how I liked before didn't seem so bad after a while. It suited him, I knew that.

"Do you really like it?"

"I love it," he said. "Your new look is very harlot and harlequin. Just what I'm looking for!"

That was enough for me. "I'll keep it until you say otherwise," I said before kissing him once more.

...

Joker stepped out onto the ramp an hour later, expecting to see some results from his new henchmen. They did find some spray paint cans from Puddin's earlier decorating, and went to adding splashes of bright color and his face everywhere—they actually did a Hell of a job, too.

"Nicely done, men!" Joker said, cackling. "This place is looking more and more like home... All I need is my throne to get here. Penguin assured me he got a good one." A few former, Penguin henchmen looked a bit nervous. But they didn't need to worry—Joker had it under control.

There were sounds of gunfire outside, but Joker didn't even flinch despite the fact that it spooked most of us. Three of Joker's men dragged in two of Penguin's, and Cobblepot eventually waddled in afterward looking mad. I laughed and Joker put a finger to my lips to shush me.

"Ooh!" Joker said, with feigned shock and a dramatic exclamation. I heard a few men chuckling, saw some of Penguin's old men turn their backs to continue working, and Joker and I walked arm-and-arm down the steps of the ramp to the first floor. The room seemed even bigger when you were standing at the bottom looking up. We must've looked like royalty to Joker's men.

I unlinked arms with Joker, and he walked over to a very annoyed Penguin, spreading his arms wide and squeezing him tight. "Cobbly-pot!" Joker shouted. I heard a few uncomfortable grunts from the fat man. "Welcome to my humble abode!" Mister J spun around, arms wide, as he looked around the warehouse. He kissed the air on either side of Penguin's cheeks like he was some sort of rich French and I heard one thug in the distance mumble, "What a bunch of queers," in a thick Brooklyn accent. When Joker pulled away, Mr. Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot looked even more pissed than before.

"You shot my men," he growled.

"No!" Joker gasped, with a crooked hand to his chest. "Me?! I would never!" He looked to Penguin's dead men. "Oh, these ol' guys? I'm sure they were asking for it. C'mon, Pengy-pot! My boys were just having a bit of fun!" Joker leaned over to his men and patted them roughly on the back. "Get those guys out of there, will ya'?" he muttered to his henchmen. They quickly dragged the dead bodies to the back to dispose of them in the fire pit.

"So—"

"Watch yourself, Joker," Cobblepot interrupted. "You're lucky I even made this deal with you."

"I'm offering you enough so you'll retire, Penguin," Joker said roughly. "With any luck, that is." He cackled. "Don't act as if I'm not worth it."

"You aren't!" Penguin spat. His cheekbone fat was almost curving the glass of his monocle, he was glaring so hard at my Puddin' I couldn't take it!

"Watch it, Penguin!" I said with my hands on my hips. Joker and Penguin paused mid-fight. I felt Joker snicker under his breath, but I never could tell if it was intentional sometimes.

"Well, well, well," Penguin said, adjusting his monocle. "If it isn't Joker's whore..." He walked over to me slowly, cane tapping against the grainy wood of the Funhouse. The echoes sent shivers down my spine. I remembered the night in Iceberg Lounge vividly, still. This would be the last time this bastard called me a "whore" and got away with it.

Swiftly, I kicked my foot forward, knocking Penguin's cane out from his grasp. As he fell forward in shock, I elbowed the back of his neck, knocking him promptly to the floor. I looked to Puddin' with a big smile on my face. I thought he would kill over from how hard he was laughing. Most of the henchmen in the room had stopped what they were doing and were just staring at me in shock. I still forget how new I am in this biz sometimes.

"Now, now, Harley, you should know better than to mess with Daddy's plans like that," he said with a wink. Mister J let out one more gruff chuckle and then picked Cobblepot up roughly by the shoulder-padding in his coat. "Apologies Penguin."

"You should be!" Penguin growled, shaking off Joker's grasp and steadying himself. "That bitch is lucky I didn't take a swing at her."

Joker laughed. "I don't think you would have found the time!"

"Whatever!" Cobblepot glared at me, and then steadied his cane. "You both better behave or I won't even bother with this deal. This is the second time you've tried something when I was practically giving you my precious goods." He scolded us like a mad father, waving one of his sausage fingers around. I held back a giggle.

"Cobblepot, let's be real with each other," Joker said. "Your collection will hardly suffer..."

"It's a good thing I'm selling you scrap, anyway."

"Don't talk about my baby like that..." Joker said. I scowled, and Joker peered at me from the corner of his eyes. "Bring her in!" He shouted to the air, lifting an arm up in welcoming.

Penguin snapped his fingers and two men carried in two parts to a very large chair.

"I call her the Organ Donor," Penguin said, proudly, adjusting the cuff-links on his jacket. "It's made from pieces of an old, Catholic organ, and you're lucky I'm donating." Penguin let out a loud, forced laugh at his own narcissistic expense. His two henchmen desperately tried to match it. Penguin snapped his fingers again, his men dropped the pieces on the ground and left.

"Your money is over there," Joker said, an inadvertent giggle escaping his red lips.

Penguin carried his fat ass over to the bag of money sitting in the corner of the room and snapped his fingers for the same two men to run in and carry it out for him. Penguin walked passed us and sneered in my direction before slapping Joker hard on the back. I'm sure, enough to make a mark. "Pleasure doin' business wit' you, as always, my good chap," Penguin said. "Just don't bother comin' by the Iceberg Lounge anymore, lest you want trouble on your hands."

"Trouble... Is my middle name," Joker said, tipping an imaginary top hat.

"Yes..." Penguin examined him with a puzzled look on his face. "Good evening."

Joker turned around as Penguin had fully exited the scene, and raised his arms to his men. "Looks like we got ourselves quite a chair, huh, boys?!"

...

I loved that chair. I couldn't wait to sit in it, either. The Organ Donor was just as Cobblepot had said: The back of the chair was made from the pipes of a pipe organ splayed out to form the back of a fantastic, arched throne, and the seat was a red, velvet cushion. The back of the chair stood about three feet higher than whoever was sitting in it, so anyone could look regal and important.

Puddin' sat me down in his lap the minute his men had finished assembling it. We made sure that the chair sat in the back room where our large stage now was. Joker said that this will be where we hold our big meetings. The third floor was where the men could sleep and eat, if they wanted, but we knew we needed the main floor for whatever main event we held that night, and we hoped there would be many. We made sure the entire second floor was our own: the lover's suite.

"I've got another surprise for you, babe," Joker whispered in my ear in his dark voice. I smiled.

"What is it Puddin'?!" I threw my arms around his neck tighter and giggled.

"Three... Two..." Joker looked at me sympathetically, and I got confused. "One," he whispered before pushing me off of his lap and into a cage in front of the stage I hadn't noticed there before. His men locked the door, and they raised the cage above the room like a chandelier. I was mortified.

"Mistah J! What're you doin'?!" I asked, holding onto the bars for dear life.

"Don't you worry about a thing, toots. This is to protect you!" Joker shouted up to me. "Just enjoy the show."

A loud boom could be heard from outside, and several sounds that let us all know the Batman was here, and tearing apart Joker's men at that moment.

"You better let me out of this cage when this is over!" I said, shaking it some.

"You'll get out in due time," Joker said, waving me off as he sat back in his chair, pretending to read a newspaper with obvious eye-holes cut out of it so he could see when Batman entered the room—it didn't take him long.

The moment that stupid Bat came into the showroom, a sensor went off, triggering an alarm that sounded like a cross between a tornado alarm and fire alarm. Confetti and strobe lights filled the room as Batman was surrounded by several of Joker's men, and I watched from above.

Batman spotted me, and I watched nervously, thinking he'd try to hurt me. He tossed one of those stupid toys of his at me, and managed to hit the cage, but didn't even make a dent. I wasn't sure what he was trying to do, but I stuck my tongue out at him anyway. Joker giggled from behind his newspaper—still trying to sit still and peer through the same eye-holes he had made—as Batman pummeled through several of Joker's henchmen. Eventually the "hero" got the hint that he wouldn't be able to fight them off for long and started to slow down—half of those Blackgate escapees were there originally because of him, they had been waiting for this moment for a while.

Batman looked like he had had enough, and out of the kindness of his heart, Joker pulled a lever behind his chair that dispensed a thin layer of tear gas on the floor. The henchmen ran, and Batman stood there unsure of what to do. I'm sure with that dumb mask on, he was fine, but I know he couldn't see at all. I looked to Mister J, and he was wearing a mask of his face to stop the smoke from hurting him.

Large vents opened up automatically in the warehouse, and fans spilled the gas out of the room to the outside. The sound crushed the waves of any other noises around us—groaning men or a girl whimpering in a cage several feet above. After a few minutes the fans shut off, and Batman stepped over a few unconscious thugs towards my Puddin'.

"Joker!" Batman growled.

Joker stood up and cackled, taking off his mask as if it was a great unveiling.

"Surprise!" Joker sang loudly, tossing the mask aside. He held the note for a few seconds just to annoy Batman. It worked.

"What are you doing here?" Batman said coolly.

"Batty, you didn't even bring a casserole? What kind of housewarming party is this?"

"I don't have time for games, Joker."

"But they're so much fun!" Joker said dramatically. At that, Joker's men returned with stun batons and menacing looks on their faces.

Batman was surrounded and after enough men had crowded him and jabbed him in the ribs and spine, that loon finally took off, zipping out of the warehouse as fast as his fanny-pack of weapons could get him. "I don't think he was ready, Puddin'!" I shouted below.

Mister J laughed. "Of course not! Then again, whoever is ready for me?!" The henchmen looked pleased with themselves and started to help gather up the few men Batman did take out. "He'll be back, boys... You can bet on it."

Joker stepped off of the stage and began walking back to the front of the warehouse. Before he exited through the doors I shouted from my cage, "But baby, what about me?!"

Joker turned around slowly, and looked up at the stage. "I told you not to ruin my plans, and you almost ruined any chances for future deals with Penguin. Consider this your time out... Puddin'."

The lights went off, and I was alone. Again.


	10. Waking Up In a Cage

"Wake up, queen of da universe!" I heard some thug shout.

Many of Joker's thugs were beneath my cage, poking me with anything long enough to reach and mocking me. Having fallen asleep in a ball in that horrible cage, I removed my hands from my face to see smeared makeup all over them. I balled up my hands into fists and stood up in my cage. I was still drowsy and a little uneasy on my feet, but it needed to be done. In one, large breath, I shouted as loudly as I could: "JOKER GET YA' ASS IN HERE!"

That same interference from yesterday filled the whole warehouse as Joker got on the intercom. "Calm yourself, Toots, I'm on the way," Joker replied. "It's feeding time, I'm sure." His laughed evaporated in the air as the sound of the intercom cutting out echoed through the warehouse.

The henchmen beneath me roared with laughter and I felt tears stream down my face once more. How could I be so stupid? How could I let this man take me in only to hang me up by my pride? I should have just stayed at home... I shouldn't have sold off that apartment to my stupid landlord. I should have done a lot of things... But instead, I was here looking like a damn fool again, because of Mister J.

And just in the nick of time, Joker walked into the backroom. Slowly, stride-by-stride, the closer he was to me, the more he was killing me. He snapped his fingers and the men hungrily let down my cage. Joker sat down in our—I mean— _his_  throne and stared at me as if he had just won a prize. I fell to the floor, hard, once the cage hit the warehouse's hardwood. I sat there, legs crossed and numb.

"Why did you leave me here all night?" I asked quietly.

"Why did you attack Penguin?"

"Why didn't YOU protect me when he called me a whore?!" I shouted, standing on my feet now.

Joker slowly stood up, with a cross look on his face. He walked over to me. I walked to the end of my cage and stood as close as I could to him. My hands were holding onto the bars of the cage until my knuckles were white. Joker wrapped his hands around mine and looked straight into my face.

"Joker, you've got my hands!" I said, angrily, shaking.

"Oh, I'm sure I've got more than that," he said, his scowl turning into a smirk.

I stared at him, confused as to what he thought was so funny. Then I remembered, we've been here before. He's had me tethered to a string ever since he let me into his mind at Arkham. I guess we never really left that island, after all.

"Just... Just let me out of here, Mistah J," I said, quietly. I was ready to submit to this. I didn't have any other better ideas, anyway. The least I could do was convince him I needed out of this cage.

Joker smirked and opened the cage with a set of keys he had in his coat pocket. He reached out for my hand, arm elongated as if he was presenting me on stage. I took it and walked out, sighing. "I'm going to bed," I grumbled. I needed something more comfortable than a cage to sleep on. I was pretty sure I had more bruises than needed.

I plopped into bed, only unfastening the corset so my girls could breathe, and passed out, face down on the bed, uncovered and unwashed for the next 12 hours. Joker didn't even come to check on me, but at that moment, that's exactly what I wanted.

...

Twelve hours of sleep felt like an eternity, and it was the best rest I had gotten in some time. I suppose it was because it was the first time I recognized how badly I truly needed it. Whatever the reason, it was nice to finally get it. When I sat up in the bed, Mister J was waiting for me to get up, perched on the end of the bed, staring.

"Took you long enough," he drew out with a smile.

"You don't get to say anything to me after the night I had," I said, frowning deeply. I'm sure my makeup and hair were a mess, too.

"It's night again now, Toots. Time to forgive and forget!" He cackled.

"I'm not so ready for that," I replied, arms folded.

Joker came over to me and I flinched. He stopped and stared, shocked—the gall. "Baby Girl, why would you flinch at me?" he asked.

"You've hurt me Puddin'," I said softly, looking up at him.

Joker sat down on the bed next to me and put a hand on my cheek, softly. It was the first time he had been soft with me that I could honestly remember, and that should have scared me more than it did. "I'm sorry," he said sweetly and kissed my cheek.

"Don't let it happen again," I said sternly.

"Yes ma'am," he said with a huge smile and laugh.

Joker let me go, and I got myself unfussed from the night's rest. I washed my hair and face and reapplied my lipstick. My corset was fastened back as it should. I stepped outside to watch some of those idiot henchmen patrol. A couple of them saw me and started making jokes, but all I heard were far off snickers. "Look out for the Bat, not me, fuckin' halfwits!" I shouted back. And they promptly shut up. Two of Mister J's dumbest were staring at the ground nearby, and I decided to sneak up behind them to see what had fascinated them so.

The one on the left had dropped his semiautomatic shotgun on the ground and was poking at something with his foot, while the one on the right chatted with him about it.

"What do you think it is?" the one on the left asked.

"A God-damned weed, idiot," the other spat.

"No, but what's it doin' here?"

"Who cares?"

"There's no reason that that much grass should be poking through cement this thick."

"Wanna call Bill Nye?"

"Shut up."

"You're da one tryin' ta figure it out like you was a scientist or somethin'."

That's when I managed to tap them on the shoulder. The one on the right jumped two feet in the air and I roared with laughter. "Good reflexes," I said.

"Why did Jokah let you out, again?" he asked, bitterly.

I scoffed at him and looked down. "Make all the fun you want, but Mistah J only cares about me, anyway," I said. "What's this grass you're looking at?"

"Uh, it's nothin'," the henchman on the left said. "It's just weird."

"Well if Joker catches you with your thumbs up your asses, I'm sure he won't see it that way. At least look more busy than you are."

"Whateva, bitch," the scared asshole from before spat. He had a tongue-in-cheek nature about him that was about to get him in trouble.

Tired of the abuse, I knocked the gun out of his hand and tripped him. He laid flat on the ground while the other henchman laughed, and I put a boot to his throat. "Call me a bitch one more time," I dared him.

He tried to say something but couldn't, that's when I felt an arm around mine, and I was being pulled away. I looked up to see Mister J there, smiling but with a stern look in his eyes.

"If you keep trying to hurt the help, I'll have to expel you," he said with a smirk.

"Well, tell the help to stop treatin' me like trash, then," I said, finally finding my footing and walking alongside of him so I was no longer being dragged around.

"I'll put that on my to-do list," he said, pretending to be exasperated by everything he had to do.

When we got inside I asked Joker if he wanted anything to eat and he obliged by taking me by a worn kitchen area with a few new appliances he likely stole from a superstore in the next town over as to not arouse too much suspicion. However he got his hands on it, it was a nice stove, and since all the henchmen had gotten their allowance of food for the night, that mean Puddin' and I could have a nice, quiet dinner together.

He set the table with some wicks he pulled out of dynamite sticks and worn into a pile of leftover wax in the warehouse, and pulled out the dried rose that he had given me all that time ago and made it the center piece. I was actually surprised with how nice it looked. I traded my usual pants for a matching sailor skirt, and swayed my hips all the way to the table with an eager Mister J, and two plates with fried chicken on them. After a bit of time, Joker decided he wanted to talk.

"This is good, Harls," he said. "I may keep you around, after all." His cackle left his lips as if by accident.

I sighed. "That is if you get to keep me around," I replied.

"It's already been too easy," he said. "I knew my charm would get me places one day."

"You've just been lucky!"

"Or you're easy," he said.

That was the one thing I didn't want to hear from my love, that I was a whore. Not again. That was more than enough for me in one week. I put my fork down and gritted my teeth before opening my mouth again. "We have a sayin' back where I come from: Don't fuck a crazy bitch without checkin' her papers... Seems like you didn't look long enough at my pedigree,  _Mistah J_." His name came out as slimy and snake-like as every sentence that he says.

"Honey, your bite isn't half as good as your bark."

"Liar," I said, smirking a little. He smiled back. "You're gonna' have to knock off this 'whore' business, though. I don't take too nicely to it."

"So I've noticed," Joker said. "How about you're a whore where it counts, but not just because Cobblepot thinks so."

I thought for a moment. "That's better."

...

Dinner was over, my hair was down and my corset was somewhere far away. I think a couple of times we hit the intercom button as Joker took me on the counter of his "command center," because I heard faint, desperate moaning coming from more than just Puddin' and I. Then again, they could have just found their own muse. Who really cared at that point? I surely didn't. It could have even been just an echo because we surely were loud enough for even Batman to hear us from wherever he was hiding.

Joker held me tightly as we laid in bed, and I felt relieved in his arms. I was happy to feel this—this Joker I had been pleading for since we left Arkham. He had come and gone so quickly and so often I never knew anymore what to expect. Sometimes I wondered if I was broken and could only be loved this way. But then I realized that's Dr. Harleen Quinzel talking, and she ain't got no place here no more.

...

I decided to take a walk that next morning, and that's when I saw what the henchmen were looking at the day before, except the grass had sprouted a bloom today. And as the sun rose higher into the sky, right before my eyes the bloom opened up into the most vibrant, pink anthurium I had ever seen! I used to see them when we'd go to family reunions in my aunt's backyard. She would scream at us to get away because they were poisonous. Something about irritating the eyes. I never really bothered listening, but now I was more curious than I had been even as a child.

I covered my nose and mouth, hoping to keep some of the irritants away, and picked it. The grass retreated into the cement quickly, and the ground shook a little. I had no idea what I had just disturbed, but I ran to Mister J immediately to tell him about what I had found.


	11. All the Flowers Of Tomorrow Are In the Seeds Of Yesterday

The streetlights could barely break through the smog in the air. It somehow seemed thicker than normal, and I watched out from the warehouse wondering where it was coming from tonight. Gotham was not only known for the pollution but didn't seem right without it. I would hear Puddin' say on more than one occasion that Gotham's stench will follow you wherever you go, but you'll never be able to breathe cleaner air once you've been here. Maybe that's why all of Gotham's worst always stay here. A lot of them say that it's not worth going anywhere else when they've staked their claim here, but I think it's because they're scared to leave; they're not built for it. The smog this night smelled like something foul in a forest—a cross between something dead and something poisonous. I was taking in the night air as much as I could, feet dangling and swinging from the ledge, as I sat at the top of the warehouse's staircase outside the front doors. Every deep breath I took in—putrid or not—chilled my lungs. The warehouse was beginning to feel too crowded with all of the men around. But I knew Joker would never leave, so I had to find my alone time where I could.

"Pungent!" I heard a thug say. Two of them were standing next to me per Joker's new orders.

His friend looked at him with a shocked expression. "Look at you with those big words!" he teased, waving his arm around. I giggled.

The first thug just flicked him off. "It's disgusting. Tell da boss we're not staying out here."

"Why don't you tell him?"

"I ain't dealin' with that."

"We'll both tell him, idiot. It's better in numbers."

I wasn't moving, though. I was determined to stay here. They would have to answer the question of where I am when they get there, and that look on Joker's face might instill a bit of needed fear into them both. I watched the two go back inside. By the time they entered the main room of the warehouse, they were being thrown back out by one of Joker's stronger arms who looked like he had been playing with a cabinet full of steroids recently. The two hit the ground hard, a few scratches on their faces and legs. I heard mumbling as they passed by me to head back towards their posts. The man who threw them took a couple more steps outside and gave me a smirk. I watched him for a second—his eyes seemed almost glossed over, like he wasn't really mentally present. He grunted, which I assumed was his version of a laugh, and stepped back inside. I wondered where he managed to grow that sort of muscle mass so quickly. The last time any of us saw him he was a much smaller, albeit still strong man. If I knew Mr. J, he must have been experimenting with something dastardly again. I didn't want to pry, though. Puddin' would tell me when he was ready.

The two men stood up after recovering from hitting the ground near me. I looked at them and gave a fake laugh. "Ha ha! I should have told ya' Mistah J wouldn't be up for talkin'." They glared at me, and I stood up to go walking out further.

"Hey, we gotta watch you!" one shouted at me. "What are you doing?"

"Don't worry about it!" I said back, a hand on my hip. I made it down the steps before one of two thugs headed for me, I guess to drag me in like some cave-woman, but I wasn't interested in being handled. I kicked the man in the head and quickly ran away. The two thugs shouted for me, but I did a tight round off and stuck my tongue out when I landed. "I said don't worry about it!" I shouted back.

The gravel was loose on the street. I was walking as carefully as I could. I may have been wearing steel-toed boots, but I wasn't incapable of hurting myself out here. I could see where the strange greenery had broken the pavement after escaping the warehouse just the day before. It was still so strange to see anything growing at all. Even in the waters, that this side of Gotham was built over, there was hardly any kind of life. When I followed the cracks the roots had made, the smog suddenly seemed thicker in the air. It was getting harder to breathe. The closer I got the less it smelled foul and the more it smelled like a freshly mowed lawn. Then lavender. Then it was black.

...

I woke up in what looked like a solid greenhouse—if there ever was such a thing. I couldn't see the smog inside, but the windows outside of the building were nearly painted green and black from the air. I felt myself suddenly choke, and I sat up to start coughing. The air seemed clear in here, and I tried to focus my eyes—but all I could see was shrubbery, vines and several different kinds of flowers. I felt something crawling on my shoulder, fully expecting a bug of some kind, but it was a vine. I screamed out in shock and jumped to my feet. When the vine tried to follow me, I turned around and jumped onto a nearby broken shelf. The vine stopped in its tracks and retreated quickly. Just when I thought I had scared it—whatever it was—away, a woman appeared from a side room. She was tall, curvy and looked strong. Her skin was eerily green and her hair was flaming red. My eyes scanned her from her bare feet all the way to her picturesque face, and I felt something in me turn. Her clothes covered up just enough to pass for clothes, and they appeared to be made of leaves. You could see every angle and curve of her body. She was mesmerizing. I wasn't sure who she was, but I sat still on the shelf, unwilling to speak first. She took her time coming over to me, and I examined the room I was in in the time I had. That's when I realized it was one of the dilapidated hotels in town. I must have passed out right outside of it. I'm sure without the greenery it would have wreaked of mold and the mixed odors of horrible guests—the kind that come to Gotham, that is.

When the mysterious green woman moved, she swayed her hips slowly and deliberately and examined me with a raised eyebrow. Her lips were pursed, until she saw my face, and they turned into a devious smile. "Hello," she said. Her voice was smooth as silk, yet deep and mature. I always envied that about some women. I tried my best to be brave and extended my feet to the ground to lightly hop down.

"Hi," I said.

"Who are you?"

"Harley. Harley Quinn."

I heard a chuckle, almost a scoff, come out of her mouth. "So you're a harlot?" The woman's eyes moved down to my breast nestled in the top of my corset. She seemed to be following the silhouette of my body much as I had hers.

I tried not to visibly get mad at her comment. "Just call me Harley," I spat back, unable to stop myself. She seemed amused.

"Call me Ivy," she said. "Some call me Poison Ivy."

Ivy walked around me at the same, slow speed, circling me like I was some sort of prey. I tried to look forward and act as if I wasn't disturbed by this humanoid. I put on my best "stank" face, as some of my old high school friends would have called it. I was doing fine at holding it, too, until I felt a vine creep up my leg. I clenched my fists. The vine scaled higher and higher up to my thigh. I felt chills run through my body as it wrapped itself around my leg in a spiral. It made its way dangerously close to my crotch and curled around to my ass. I tried to move, but it had me stuck. This  _Poison Ivy_ came up to me and placed a delicate hand on my shoulder. "Don't be afraid, Miss Quinn," she said. "I won't hurt you." Her fingertips trailed to my lips before she let out a laugh.

Somehow I believed her. "Why am I here?"

"You got swept away by my babies' toxins," she said with a shrug. "I figured you were safer in here than on the streets. Then again... You look like you've got some fight in you. Where do you come from?"

I examined her face some more, a little unsure if I should say. "Ever heard of the Joker?"

Ivy's smile was overshadowed by the sudden change in her eyes. She must've known exactly who I meant.

"I figured that clown would find another."

"Watch it, bitch!" I replied.

Poison Ivy just rolled her eyes and turned away. "I think I know exactly who you are..." By now, the vine had wrapped itself around my torso and up to my opposite arm. The end played with the palm of my hand, and I kept trying to re-clench my fists to stop it. "You're the woman who broke him out of Arkham, aren't you? Excellent work. Many of us at Blackgate tried our hand at what you two did..."

 _This bitch was in Blackgate?_  I thought. I took a look around, wondering what kind of damage an idiot police station had on a walking plant like her.

"Well, Puddin' and I are a team," I interrupted. "I doubt anyone else could pull off what we did."

The woman turned around. "Oh, honey... You don't really think that, do you?" The vine let go of me.

...

Mister J was standing straight up, hands behind his back, facing the men down below in the warehouse. His office seemed larger when I returned, and his bird's eye view of his henchmen seemed to stand even higher off of the ground. I imagined falling face-first to the bottom floor. It would probably hurt less than this conversation.

The walk back to the warehouse felt lonelier than I can remember feeling before Joker. When I entered his office, Joker turned on his heel and looked at me with an expression that I could only hope was anger. His permanent smile—made of makeup and scars—made the most distorted, frightening frown. "I told you not to leave," he growled.

"Actually, you told me not to leave without your men," I replied. "I was only half-wrong."

"Stop disobeying me," Joker said, his frown turning back into his usual smile.

"What are ya' my father?!" I shouted at him.

Joker slammed a fist on his desk (I flinched), and he leaned over it, his pointy face creeping closer to mine. I could feel tears about to well up. Would I spend more time in a cage? Would he hang me up for the men to poke at again? What was coming?

"Don't. Disobey. Me. Again."

The way he said it scared me. But I couldn't get Ivy's words out of my head. That stupid bitch had to go and meddle in my love life, and now I had her sultry voice in my head:  _"Anyone could have helped him out of Arkham; he just needed a pretty little distraction."_

"Why should I listen to you?!" I shouted at him through tears.

Joker came around the desk and grabbed me by my throat firmly. "Why are you pushing me tonight?" He gave my neck a light squeeze. "I thought we were on good terms."

I stood firm. "Why am I here?" I asked.

Joker looked at me peculiarly and let go of my throat. "I don't know... Possibly because you're usually a riot." An inadvertent giggle sneaked out.

"I don't want to just be another clown in this stupid circus of yours!" I said, stamping my foot. Joker smirked.

"What the hell else did you expect, Toots?" he asked, throwing his hands up in the air.

That stung. "More! Always more! I hate you! Why can't I be more than just your pet?" I was crying now.

"If you hate me so much then leave! I have a funhouse to run, and you're really dragging it down."

"Y-y-you'd kick me out? Just like that?" I sniffed hard, fighting back the ugly mucus about to ruin my makeup.

"I have no time for someone I have to constantly punish," he said with a firm look on his face and turned around without giving me so much as another word. He threw me Jester's leash and it hit me hard on the chest.

The man from before—the steroids abuser—came into the office and held out a hand. I took it, and he threw me over his shoulder. I kicked and screamed while Joker kept facing his men. Joker—my Puddin', my everything—had once again broken my heart. The man threw me down, and I stared up at him, wondering why he would be in on this. He grunted again, but it sounded more like disgust than a chuckle this time. Jester was pushed out the door by his hind legs—the hyena having tried to fight the manhandling, dug his claws into the worn wood of the floorboards.

When Jester was at my feet, the man slammed the door behind him. I looked up at the warehouse. It was so tall and broken. A few henchmen were arguing over the aesthetics of the new light-up sign that Joker had had commissioned. They were balancing their big baboon asses on ladders, but suddenly I felt out of place even laughing at them.

The sign wasn't lit yet, but I could see "Joker's Funhouse" in the lettering. At some point I would have wished to see "Joker and Harley's Funhouse," but after the way Joker dismissed me, I wasn't sure what I wanted anymore. I blinked a few times, letting the remainder of my tears fall down my cheeks, and looked around at the rest of Gotham behind me. I looked down at the ground, wondering if I should follow the cracks back to ivy. A flower bud was sprouting, despite the cement, a few feet from me. I took a few steps closer to it, and the bud bloomed to reveal a carnation in the deepest shade of red I had ever seen. Jester tugged on the end of the leash in my hand by his snout, and I put it around his neck. I knew where I needed to be.


	12. You Said I Was the Most Exotic Flower

The smog had lifted some in the haze of the night. I remembered making my walk back to the old hotel Ivy had taken over, and wondering if it had been this far away before. The night seemed to stare down at me like it was mocking me. All I wanted to do was hide in Ivy's bushes and never leave. At least, for now, I had some sort of friend. That's more than I could say for what I had at Joker's Shithouse.

The doors of the hotel creaked open, and I noticed Jester looking up at me like he was scared. I cooed at him: "Don't worry, baby, Mamma's fine. She's got a friend here." The little rascal could go from fierce hyena to skittish pup in a heartbeat.

We made our way inside and Ivy was nowhere to be found. "Ivy?" I called out. My voice bounced off of the old brick of the—what once was—foyer.

A few leaves rustled, and I saw some flower buds open and spread their petals towards us. Jester kept looking around, confused, but seemed at ease. "Ivy, it's me—"

"Hello," I heard her assured voice echo through the walls as she entered the foyer. She had a lab coat wrapped around her body tightly, holding onto her small waist. I couldn't help but notice her figure.

"Hi, Ivy," I said weakly.

Ivy's eyes darted to Jester's big eyes that were looking up at me with worry. "Who is this?" she asked in her sultry way to my mutt. Jester looked to her then back to me.

"That's Jester," I said. I think I saw his ears perk.

Ivy's eyes met mine, and I could tell she was trying to scan my thoughts or something. "Cute," she said, finally. "And what do I owe this back-to-back visit?" She had a raised eyebrow that drew me into her stare.

"I had it out with Mistah J when I got home—back, I mean. When I got back."

Ivy's eyes grew heavy for me. Like she could tell how I was feeling. "Need somewhere to stay?"

"Not forever," I said almost too quickly.

"Of course," Ivy replied raising her hands slowly to me. "I wouldn't dare expect a woman like you to need anyone else."

Something about Ivy made me feel empowered, like I could be anyone. She saw right through Joker without even knowing him, and he played me like a fiddle, but with her by my side I could be someone better.

...

Jester was lying in a pile of grass, curled into a little hyena ball. He always had his guard up at the warehouse, but here he seemed to rest easy. I left the big room of shrubbery that changed me just hours before—knowing Jester would be fine sleeping—and found Ivy in a lab a few rooms away where her coat made more sense. "What are you workin' on?" I asked with a smirk.

"I'm a nerd," Ivy replied. Everything she said came out cool and slow, but I didn't miss the humor. I giggled. "I used to be a botanist," she continued. "Ever heard of the Baudelaire?" Everyone had. The Baudelaire was home to some of the prettiest flowers on this side of Gotham. Even when things got rough at home, my dad managed to—when he was around towards the end—buy the biggest bouquet he could afford for my mom. It's nice to have some good memories.

"Yeah, I have," I said. "So you specialized in flowers?"

"Come here," Ivy said, gesturing me with an outstretched hand. I walked over to her. The table was covered in beakers, different gasses and chemicals, and pots and aquariums full of underwater and above water plants of all sorts.

I sat down next to Ivy and felt her warm skin against mine. She shifted a little in her seat. It was one of the only times she ever seemed almost nervous. "Have to be careful," she warned. "My touch is toxic," she practically purred it to me.

"'S fine to me," I said with a shrug. Ivy grinned and pushed the beaker sitting next to her in front of me. "That's my favorite toxin," she said. "Rattlesnake venom."

"Why do you like it so much?"

"Because it's a slow, lethal—if not treated—pain," she said deeply. I was starting to get the sense that she was more deadly than anyone I ran across at Arkham Asylum. "So, how'd you end up strung to that creep, anyway?" she asked as I looked around at her lab table, kicking my boots off gently to the floor. I felt something sweep past my feet and looked to find a vine hanging up my boots for me.

"He was—"

"He was charismatic, wasn't he?"

I nodded. "He was wonderful when I met him. I mean, not at first. He was elusive, manipulative… Sexy… He's loved me and left me so many times since Arkham… I've cried too many times over him." I said it all almost with a whimper. Joker had a knack for making me feel weak. But with Ivy, I could let out all the bad. It was funny, a woman whose pores oozed poison was the safest person to be near in that moment.

I felt Ivy turn to face me on her stool. She wrapped both of her arms around my shoulders and pulled me into her bosom. She was soft and warm. "I thought you said your touch was toxic," I said, sniffling.

"Only to those that don't matter," she replied darkly.

...

That first night with Ivy all moved in a blur. All slow motion. She had made a cozy room for herself, on the top floor of the hotel that was still standing, with a large, king sized bed covered in vines and petals. Moss grew in strange patterns all over the woodwork of the bed frame. Vines unfastened my corset and slowly pulled my pants to the floor as Ivy walked slowly to her bed backward, my hands in hers. I felt my skin raise in goosebumps when I was set free from that costume, standing in nothing but my underwear. Ivy stopped when we reached the bed and stared deep into my eyes while she let my hair down. "You don't need to hide here," she purred.

I climbed into her bed as she did so slowly behind me, her hips swaying while she was on all fours, and pulled me tightly into her body spooning me, humming until I fell deep into a sleep I hadn't felt in some time. That 12-hour sleep after the cage incident just felt like a useless nap.

I woke up in Ivy's arms. She had been awake for some time, and seemed to be staring at the flowers past my head. I stretched my legs as to not disturb the arms wrapped around me, cupped just under my breasts. "Good morning," I heard her say just as silky as ever. I felt a chill.

"Hey, Ivy," I said, snuggling in more. "Thank you for letting me stay here."

I heard whimpering down the hall and shot up. "Jester! Mamma's in here!" I yelled out.

My sweet little mutt must have been all over the hotel trying to find me. He came running in immediately and curled himself into my lap as tightly as I've ever seen him do. "I'm so sorry, Jester!" I pleaded, but he seemed fine now to know where I am. My little guardian. Ivy let out a chilling laugh as I sighed deeply.

"That little thing sure does love you," she said.

"I shouldn't have let him sleep so far from us, he worries..." I said. "I rescued him as a runt from a circus."

Ivy raised an eyebrow and sat up to sit next to me, her hands sitting gracefully atop her legs as if she were some royal princess.

"Well, we'll have to just make sure he's just as comfortable here as you," Ivy said. I smiled to Ivy and she gave me a quick peck on the temple before standing up. "It's time for breakfast," she said. "What are you thinking?"

"What do you have?"

"I have the entire kitchen stocked—lots of nonperishables that were left behind, plus some random groceries I've collected over my time here," she said as she walked towards the doorway to fetch food. "I may not need real food like normal humans, but I still have a few favorite snacks from when I was less green."

"How come no one has disturbed you here?" I asked, still petting Jester who was almost in a coma on my lap.

Ivy looked at me from over her shoulder slowly. "Not many live to find out what's on the inside of these walls," she said darkly and then walked out, her hips following sometime after. I wondered what made me so special—me, the idiot clown.

...

Breakfast was some eggs—that Ivy stressed were never fertilized eggs or laid in a factory somewhere, because I guess I needed to know that—and cinnamon toast. I didn't tell Ivy, but my mom used to make that for me all the time. I never felt so at home. Like the rest of the hotel, Ivy had made her own adjustments in decorating to the kitchen. Namely, most of the ceiling was cut out in place of a large sun window.

"I have plans for your friend, the Joker," Ivy said as she sat across from me.

I dropped my toast on the plate. "W—what?"

"Remember the rattlesnake venom?"

"What are you going to do, Ivy?" I asked with my hands on my hips.

"It's just payback, honey," Ivy said with a smirk. "Can't let men trample over you and not make them pay for it."

We made it back to her lab after breakfast, and she showed me how her studies led to making hybrid flowers with rattlesnake venom in their spores. "Jesus, Ivy," I said, scared. "You're brilliant."

"Now it's time to make Joker's Funhouse a little more fun," she said coolly.

We made our way to the warehouse. Ivy and I were moving faster than I had seen her move this whole time. But now she was a bitch on the hunt, and I couldn't wait to see what she had cooked up for Mister J in action. Together we reached the edge of the warehouse's grounds and stood in front the guarded, gated entrance. It felt wrong being here, but then I remembered why I was and felt a surge of energy burst through my chest.

"Joker's Funhouse" was lit up and sparking in places where the neon fixtures were still too weak to handle the amount of electricity pumping into them. I remembered Joker yelling at his goons to get that figured out. I remembered the day we introduced the Funhouse to the rest of his men, and he wasted those men and women from the hospital in front of everyone to send a message that they were all replaceable. I don't know how I never saw it before: He meant me, too. I clenched my fists and Ivy grabbed my hand and laced our fingers. "Save it for when you see him," she breathed.

Ivy wrapped her fingers around the gate's steel bars and called out to the men, secreting that toxin she always warned me about, a smog slowly lifted from the ground and the armed men, who had been approaching and catcalling the sexy Poison Ivy, collapsed. I was already climbing over the wall, sneaking past the men and wearing a bandana wrapped tightly around my face at the middle of the bridge of my nose. It was black and red like the rest of my outfit. I was starting to be grateful for having not chosen green and purple. I was my own fucking woman without the Clown Prince of Crime. Even if, despite my protests I would have complete control over who I became, I still felt like I didn't know who that woman was.

Joker was in his command center, and I managed to make my way up to that floor before Ivy's toxin reached the warehouse's bottom floor, knocking out all of those idiots cheering this jerk on. Joker was leaning over the intercom system, looking down on all of them, not sure what was happening. He punched the glass in front of him, pissed off, and that's when I said, "Hey, Puddin'," coolly.

Mister J turned around slowly and glared at me. "Who the FUCK told you that you could come back?"

"Oh, so now I need permission?" I said, angrier than I've ever been, but pulling my best  _Ivy_ and trying to keep calm.  _You're a Quinzel, Harley,_  I thought to myself, cheering myself on.

Joker began to walk over to me, when two vines slithered their way inside the office and pulled him to the floor by the ankles. He landed on his back, and I jumped on top of my  _Puddin'_  and put my favorite blade to his throat. "Remember when you said my bark was worse than my bite?" I spat in his face. Joker started laughing through a fury-coated stare. I had him completely pinned to the ground and soon more vines followed to keep him there.

"What are you going to do now? Kill me?"

"No," I said. "That'd be lettin' you off too easy, babe."

The warehouse shook and was soon overtaken by moss and flower buds leading to the command center. The moss held Joker to the ground and he squirmed while laughing hysterically. "What is this?"

"Consider this your time-out," I mocked.

When I left the room the buds opened up into beautiful rose hybrids of black and red, all leading in a perfect path to Joker's body from the bottom of the staircase. The last bud of the room opened slowly to him, resting on his chest, and released the rattlesnake venom in his face. I heard him scream bloody murder, and I almost felt the urge to turn back. But I knew nothing was waiting for me there and left. Ivy made an anonymous call to the police while I was inside, and by the time I walked out of the gates—hips swaying in victory—I turned to see that Ivy had covered the paintings of Joker's face on the front and sides of the warehouse in small, red pansies that looked like blood on his face from where we were.

"Was he surprised?" Ivy asked, staring darkly at the warehouse, fixated on our win.

"Right now he's just in pain," I said.

"Something tells me he won't be getting over you anytime soon," she said before turning to scan me with her eyes. "Fucking pig."


End file.
